Charlie Brown

Brown leaf sky. Still. 

Like a lake floating in a bowl of

November noon. 

Sun spots, orange 

rinds, the size of colourman

scars. Deep purple wool,

woolfruitsleep chords, and a

heart, brave 

as the ribbons that

flutter from handlebars of

wobbly tricycles. You wonder -

if this is the part where in 

another world, a stranger cries

quietly to the keys of 

Charlie Brown and

you suck in a 

sharp 

minute of being alive. 

Winter, she has a way

with souls. And fine lines. Winter's

for remembering 

that you are a toffee paper in a 

windy field. Winter's for 

scrubbing 

your insides, with songs 

and sea salt. 

Scrub.scrub.scrub.hurt.love

hurt.scrub. Till we are new again. 

Squeaky clean with 

a couple of wild

cracks. 

Winter's the part of you 

that snows 

every time a careless friend 

forgets to -

finish. Winter's the

part of you that 

melts 

(like a kiss on a baby's nose)

every time 

you meet 

a soldier, arriving,

inside

a fogshine mirror.

:)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8ohdhWpvrk