Pink

I dream of flower petals

The soft stroke

Of tender fingers

Across my brow

Or cast across my path

Like pink snow

I ache for the just turned leaves

Autumn’s lips

Tips dipped in bits of red,

I ache to kiss

I live a Wizard of Oz life

The scared man behind the curtain,

The cowardly lion

Stumbling and bumbling

Through a landscape

Of Freudian slips

Over which I constantly trip,

Never able to say

What I need to say

When I need to say it

My head so full of haze

It might be cotton candy,

Or the faded pink

Of a faded movie,

With me

Always aching in mid step

To stop and dive deep

Into the midst of pink,

To spread it

and taste what

Lay beneath,

To kiss the red tips

And tender lips,

Each pedal a special gift

Too frail to touch too hard,

But I always do,

Me, lost in this maze

Of my own making,

A bumbling, tumbling

Head of straw

Knowing my brain

Can’t cure the pain

A metal man searching for a heart

That is already broken,

Each joint stiff

With the fall of rain,

And still the pain

Comes, the ache pounds

Inside me as if I am trapped

Inside my own chest

A phony wizard

Needing to drown myself

Once and for all

In pink.