In #atozchallenge #poetry #photography

I looked in to you

waving in the breeze

a smile big as the sun

climbing with my knees

laying beneath you

in  your big shadow

nature’s bed at my command

sand between my toes

I ate from your fruit

white and juicy meat

hardest nut I’d cracked

my mess’n wasn’t neat

 

 

“A thousand words will not so deep an impression make as one deed.”

~Henrik Ibsen

****

Imagery: is the name given to the elements in a poem that spark off the senses. Despite “image” being a synonym for “picture”, images need not be only visual; any of the five senses (sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell) can respond to what a poet writes.

It all makes sense (short story)

I woke up from a deep sleep to the same thing “nothing.” I guess I should be thankful; I have a job and a room of my own. But most  many days it is difficult to wake up to being blind. Have you ever wondered what the color yellow looks like? I can feel yellow, I can taste yellow, but I can never see yellow. When you hear the triumphant screech of a hawk that has seized its prey do you appreciate the swooping motion he makes as he dances in the sky? I can hear the dance – I will never see it.

I hate hearing. My ears taunt me with a knowing that my eyes will never experience. My teachers applauded the senses.

“your ears will hear better, you fingers will feel more intently as if to compensate for the loss of one of your senses.

“Easy for you to say teach you have all of your senses intact.”

“Tap,tap, tap.” my finely tuned ears can hear the white and red stick that acts as a replacement for my eyes. Not that I know what red or white looks like.

“Good Morning,” my ears hear an unfamiliar, melodic, perfectly tuned voice. “Good Morning Miss, ” hoping she can’t sense the insincerity in my greeting. She does something unexpected; she grabs my arm but she’s not steering me like most feel inclined to do out of pity. “I am new here; please show me to my desk.” I rarely am asked to help people. Obviously because everyone believes I am helpless. The smile on my face is now genuine as I deliver her to her spot. “Have a nice morning miss.” “It would be so nice to have lunch with a familiar face.” “Gladly. I’ll see you at the lunch hour.” I had never used those words before “I’ll see you.” For some reason I felt as though I might “see her.”

We could have talked way past the allocated lunch hour. She was so energetic, interesting, full of life. I imagined the way she looked. Tall, long hair, beautiful eyes, radiant smile, gorgeous. We established a routine. We met each morning outside, had lunch, parted for the day outside of the office. I didnt’ want to be too forward so I waited until Friday to see if she wanted to get drinks after work. She acted as though she had no other plans, no other friends, and made me a priority. It was nice to feel important to one person. We danced by the moonlight. I was grateful for my acute sense of touch; her body felt so good in my arms. Friday became a weekend of lunch, dinner and brunch.

Monday through Friday she found a fresh flower on her desk each morning from me.

One morning I heard a few of the ladies gabbing, “Oh how sweet for both of them.”

“Yes the perfect couple. Fortunately he will never know.”

“What “won’t I ever know? ” I wondered.

I was now grateful for my finely tuned ears. I knew her voice. Though she was cubicles away I  could hear her sigh or murmur.

I never thought it would happen but I was falling in love. I believe she was too. After a night of wine, good food, and dancing; she asked me in to her place. I held her, we kissed, my hands wandered, our bodies became intertwined under white gauze and moonlight.

Heaven must have been singing that night for I truly was. I woke the next morning with her head on my shoulder. My fingers had been so alert to her shape that it seemed as though I could make out her shape  and see black tresses cascade about my shoulder.

“Is this what love is like when you are tricked and you see images with your mind?” I smiled.

As we walked to work that morning, I experienced the colors of the rainbow raining down on my heart. Blues, greens, reds, pinks, purples, and yes yellows bombarded my senses. I walked her to her desk and beheld something not from my mind, or my ears, or my fingers. I saw the biggest chocolaty eyes peer up at me accompanied by a radiant smile. For the first time I saw!

The doctor examined my eyes and said, “It’s a miracle. Be careful as you adjust to this new sense and enjoy.”

My ears were still acute as they heard the women “I wonder how long it will last now that he can see. Once he sees how ugly the scars, from the fire, have made her, I wonder how long he will be able to bear it?”

That night  I touched the scars that my fingers knew so well.

I pulled her face toward mine, “the light has shown me how beautiful you are. I never want to let you go.”

Join me and read the other wonderful short stories on Theme Thursday. Our prompt was Light.

Thanks Velo Steve for the great Rainbow (perfect)