pink lemonade;


she reminded me of pink lemonade - 

the perfect cool-down on a warm summer's day.

other days, she made me think of honey - 

sweet and pure and very, very rich, 

though not rich in worldly values or silver coins. 


she was rich in a much more beautiful way.

in the words she used, 

the thoughts swirling around in her head

that spilled over to the world. 

her words were gifts, the best gifts 

any human being could give. 


if she were a season, 

I don't think she'd be just one. 

her season would be the moment winter,

cold & empty & bitter,

melts into spring. 

she is the first light of the sun, 

golden and reigniting everything that once was. 



you look at a person 

and you don't really see their face,

but you imagine words filling pages and books

with all that they are. 

why - 

her soul would cover the world with libraries 

if someone could write it down. 

and those books, 

I think, 

would be the most beautiful of all.

This poem is about: 
My community


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