(from the NaPoWriMo prompt: write a poem of over-the-top compliments.)[I was so not feeling this prompt. It mentions the Cole Porter song "You're the Top," which was the first thing I thought of too. I don't mind poems that mimic of course, but I also wasn't in the mood for that. Luckily, something came my way in a message this morning that was a little more inspiring.]
This morning, I am seeing the world
in blues, purples, and greens.
You see, during the night
as I slept in dreams
I can no longer remember,
a friend from my husband’s
deep, deep past messaged
a photo of him she’d found in what
she called the “archives.”
It is a picture of a young man.
He is a chestnut brown
boy, lithe and strong, shoulders
like granite shelves on a tall, tall
mountain and hair… so, so much
cumulus clouds of sun-goldened
brown hair. His face is soft and sharp—
smooth, smooth skin over
sharp jaw. He rides atop a blue,
rolled-up pool cover below a bright,
blue summer sky, wearing a purple
t-shirt with a stand of green, green
trees behind. It made me ache
for July and for a pool and for
a chance to be next to such
an image of a young man.
It was a shocking way to awake,
to that beautiful boy in blue, purple,
and green, but only for a moment.
Because then I smiled and said to
that photograph, “Hey Babe, good