Lying on my side in grass at dusk reflecting that pink is white

By Michael Heavener

Blanket spread on fresh-cut grass,
Reflecting on the things I've read.
Until these lazy feelings pass
I'm lying on my side instead.

The poem I think I try to write,
It hides, defies my seeking pen
While yet another flirts in sight
To tease until I comprehend.

The trees are laying on their sides
Framed in green on left and right.
Imagine them as smiles wide
In sunset colors that delight.

Pink is white, now that's a sight
That clouds cannot contain within.
Orange the gold of fillings bright,
Reds and plums refine the grin.

Fingertips grasped 'round my pen
Drawing cool florescent mists,
Pinned to dusk's last rays of sun.
Pink is white, my heart insists.

What I write speaks as a child
Wondering what and wondering how.
As I lay upon my side and smile
At things I'll never really know.

I treasure all the poems I've read
Joy of rhyme and words that sing
Poetic strokes of colors, freed
By cotton clouds when brushed by wind.

I close my eyes to what I see;
Orange and rose and red and green.
Feel the colors inside of me
Pink is white -- dusk's blush, unseen.

Poem complete and mind is clear.
For most of what I've seen tonight
While lying on a blanket here
Defends my claim that pink is white.