Denim

Color, which is the poet's wealth, is so expensive that most take to mere outline sketches and become men of science. - Thoreau

Washed with truth.

Creased by life.

Knees worn.

Whispering I love you.

Screaming help me.

Spinning save me.

Struggling to dye faith to a deep hue.

Time's colors turn different shades of blue.

The days rinse by.

My jeans fade.

I feel but do not know

when my heart will turn back to ...

... indigo ...

Author's Note

“A single gentle rain makes the grass many shades greener. So our prospects brighten on the influx of better thoughts. We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities, which we call doing our duty. We loiter in winter while it is already spring.” - Thoreau

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I love this poem. I never thought until just now about how denim is an emblematic fabric for our times & you've done it justice with this tribute. I love how your poem seems to wobble tween the faded version & the indigo version, as if the intensity of blue could be a meter of other attributes. I love how you use this to make a point about people fading & never being indigo again (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Pete]

yes, a "fitting" analogy for many things in life. who doesn't have a pair? they go through many stages and cycles. your thoughts wash true and oh so relevant. thank you for sharing margie. now squeezing into them as the years go by is a different story ... :)

[Beccy]

Colour fades, but as long as the structure retains integrity then the same as love, faith will remain indelible.

A fitting poem for Sunday.

Beccy.

Beccy.

[Pete]

"spot-on" observations beccy. the true colors of life are indelible & cannot be erased as attested in nature. thank you for sharing a sunday meditation ... :)