…yellow and green

…yellow and green-

when she were younger, I wore yellow and green-

pink stripes that flew across, while polka dots danced on the lining of my pants & orange circles at the seam of my shoes.

and we’d jump with the greatest of heights on worn down mattresses to the sound of perfect rock and roll-

sang so loud, we’d drown the tick of the clock and forget the time-

but as she grew, she noticed how the yellow and green didn’t match the lined up polka dots- nor did they have anything to do with the pink stripes that crossed them, or why the orange circles even existed-

…so we didn’t sing anymore.-

but I love her, and I understand, truly. the other mothers weren’t like me. she merely craved in me the normality in which they already held, but I could not capture that;

…but I cannot capture that-

and ive screamed at God many days for the lack of understanding. and ive apologized many days after for the scream that occurred-

they see her as brilliant, in which she is- and when she speaks, the crowd stands in amazement, as they should-

I just hope that one day they know that such a being came from the embodiment of yellow and green; of yellow and green- with pink stripes that fly across, while polka dots still dance on the lining of my pants, with orange circles at the seam of my shoes-

I just want them to know…

she came,

from me-

kb