the pink room

 

the pink room is where childhood

began to change to adulthood. it did 

take time. we had time. we were patient.

we seemed to understand the value

of coming at it incrementally. or, maybe

we were simply cautious, or even scared.

i think of it as the pink room, but only

her bedding was pink. the furniture

was white wicker, and two tall windows

let in north light, which is never harsh.

we came to ourselves, and each other,

in this soft light. it is also the room

where we came apart. i would undo

that part if i could. it was a mistake.

 

 

 

 

 





Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 284 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2019-08-21 at 11:32

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Katniss
I love the title and the simplicity of your poem,
And the regrets inside of it! Thank u for sharing😉
2019-08-23


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
This text has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting it on our poetry website!
2019-08-23


shells
Somehow this is as simple as it is complex. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I "see" the pink room and feel the understated transition and the ultimate regret.
2019-08-22


Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Well done indeed. It reads like the beginning of a fine movie.
2019-08-22



I was thinking about the resonance of events on buildings. It only takes the slightest spark to fire my ignition, for you it was the colour (color) pink. It can be a smell, or a word for me. I also agree that it is written gorgeously, if writing can have a personality, I guess gorgeous is good, ..should I just say thanks for sharing instead of all this blather.
2019-08-22


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I, too, like the matter-of-factness of this poem. The ending is perfect.
2019-08-21



This is a tight-as-a-drum, supremely well-constructed poem. No excess verbiage, every word contributory. Puts me in mind of Ted Kooser's work.
2019-08-21


Marie Cadavieco The PoetBay support member heart!
There was so much gentleness, so much that was good, it was like a blow in the face, that last line.
Oh, the mistakes, the mistakes. If we can see them, not as a source of self reproach, but as opportunities to learn, then regret can be put away. Your poem really wormed its way into my heart. Well done.
2019-08-21