As you played, giving an impish tug on a branch.
You were enough color to set the sky aflutter.
Shaming the pink and orange—even the daring purple!—with your flirtations.
And just remembering, I am a deluge of color,
Mostly yellow, as I recall, in awe, the bold grasp of your arms,
And the purposefulness of your feet on the peeking roots of the oak tree.
You swung and your toes made an upside down arc-en-ciel.
And the branch, laden with the weight of a girl,
Bowed in creaky submission.
My cowardice kept me still, but the oak tree and I,
We knew what it was to bend for you,
To open a little more in prismatic wonderment.
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