A WORLD WITHOUT COLOR

It was a most unforgettable sound,
That of a huge cat
Hack, hack, hacking
As if to expel a fur ball too large
To spit,
Disemboweling the peace
Of my quiet walk
Beneath gray skies
I was sixteen
The streets were dead
On this warm Christmas day
My only goal,
To digest the meal
I'd just put away,
Interrupted by that loud
Hacking sound
Dusk was fast
Approaching
And in the slight glimmer
Of light
I caught sight
Of her
She wore neutral
Browns – most holey
Clothes
From her worn woolen hat
To her hush puppy shoes
Even the bag she had
Was brown and torn
The smell of tobacco
And cheap wine
Rode the wind of each cough
For a moment staying aloft
Before disappearing
"You," she said
With a voice as raspy
As a dry sore throat
In cold night air
She slapped
The wooden bench
In Oglethorpe Square
"Yes, you," she repeated
"Have a seat
For I need to talk
Don't be afraid
There's no reason to balk
And, perhaps in me
Santa has one more gift
For you
I left Savannah
Over sixty years ago
Never thought I'd end up
Back here, you know
I was only fifteen
When I left
Wound up in New Orleans
No wedding ring
No honeymoon
I learned to like Creole
Cathouses and bars
Learned that liars
Never deliver stars
But my path was set, you see
My long lashes and blue eyes
Opened doors
My black hair was soft
In bed
And soft on floors
I made love, not war – sure
Love to many and war on myself
I was a barefoot flower child
I danced with Joplin
Manson said I was wild
But it all seems like
Just yesterday
And now I wonder where
The days have gone
And why I'm
Alone
You're young, you're pretty
But don't be like me
Constantly searching for freedom
Having never been free
For the gosling waits
Before attempting to fly
And makes sure it has wings
Before skimming the sky"

Sam DeLoach
Copyright 12/26/07