To a Child

A petal

a bird’s wing

the trace

of a song

brushes my cheek

when you smile

in the city

in the rain

I can smell

the roses.

A different kind of color

It’s a different kind of color.

Not the grey of a soggy morning
or the purple of her tears.

It’s more like yellow
baby hair, soft tendrils,
fluffy cotton candy
smelling of sugar
and mother.

Or the first daffodil breaking
a blazing head through
tall green stalks or maybe
the sun when you thought
you’d never get warm.

It’s that kind of yellow
that surprises my heart
when you blaze out a smile.