she collects with her clutching fingers for an
internal sense of delight.
Like a bower bird yet not,
tall, gangly, lean,
her vigilant eyes dart for specific shades which will
perfect that rainbow sheen which
she’s placed upon her bedspread,
laid out for her eyes to sumptuously absorb their beauty,
her very own rainbow
created by her own hands,
materials found and designed.
She is becoming more like that bower bird
yet by the world mostly unseen,
though still one of a kind,
here she needs not fight to be heard,
a potent lustre, it gleams.
She doesn’t collect to impress,
to lure another into her nest,
no, these shades are purely for her,
her heart beats wildly as she blots spilled ink
in colours known only in her realm.
Turquoise mixed with a purple sheen,
what would you call this?
Peacock green, she labels him,
he is now part of her luscious scene.
And the ripe aroma of baby pink with clashing red,
what will she label that?
What will her imagination draw upon next?
She rolls in the hues now,
her eyes brighten and enliven with her soul,
her spirit, it soars, encapsulating the room,
while outside her window, watches the playfully observant Moon.
This rainbow bower has much to offer,
she has much to extend to this world
but only in the privacy of her bedroom
can she truly extend, to exhibit her colours
or collect the shades,
because outside these four walls,
if she shared her triumphant secret collection,
the world would be blinded,
temporarily yet wondrously amazed,
she prefers to remain in hiding.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by cm_dasilva from Pixabay
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