Okay, so one week in poetry club, the assignment was to write a poem in a style that we weren't comfortable with.
I suck at writing love poems, so that's what I chose.
It isn't about anyone in particular, it was one of those poems where I just saw pictures in my head and described what I saw.
I'm jealous of the sun
the way it reaches down when you look up and gently kisses you on the cheek
You smile as the gentle warmth touches you, the smile that makes me smile, the guarded grin that weaves cocoons of anticipation and longing in my stomach that hatch into dark grey butterflies that travel to my brain once you leave, and land softly on branches of my thoughts
I'm jealous of the music you make, the guitar you strum.
You take a simple tool of metal and wood and transform it into something beautiful, something of worth.
You use it as a tool to make melodies that spin thought and stop sadness.
Could you do that with me?
Take my rough materials of insecurity and self-doubt, and turn them into something valuable?
Teach me to weave webs as bright as the light that touches your face, and to sing harmony to each quiet song that emanates from those around me?
I bet you could. You can do anything.
I'm jealous of the tress you sit under, as you steal away beside the sweet grass and whispering stream
They reach out their long arms to protect you from the open sky, just as I would.
They stick their roots down deep, promising to never leave, just as I would.
And when the sky bares its teeth and opens its mouth to blow you away from me, I'll stand strong.
I might bend from the gusts, and a few branches might break off, but you'll be there to put me back together again, because you took care of me when I was just a seed, and helped me put down the roots that are keeping me in place.