(I plan to submit this poem to my school's poetry magazine soon. I would be eternally grateful for any and all feedback. Thank you.)
She sat amidst a chain of smoky air.
Her slim fingers grew yellow with each puff she took.
She had stringy yellow hair and dirty feet, boldly bare.
People commonly mistook her for a dirty old crook.
There was a curious gleam resounding in each hazel eye.
A sly smile parted her cracked lips from time to time.
When she was asked to leave the grounds "politely,"
She'd give a loud, long, and defeated sigh.
Then say,
"Since when is relaxing beneath an Oak tree, quietly, considered a crime?"
This creature's name was Diana.
Nicknamed by kids "Diana Dirty-Toes,"
She came to the park everyday, at four.
"Who is she?" I’d ask. The kids would say, "Well…nobody really knows."
Then, "All we know is that she's pretty poor."
When she came, she sat alone and talked to no one.
She'd stare into the distance, listlessly.
She had a secret that no kid knew, not one:
Diana couldn't Really see
She could point out basic shapes and sizes,
But the world was a colorless blur of black and white.
Her smeared vision deprived her of nature's painted prizes,
And the beauty of distinguishing the day from the night.
She could detect the odorous from the revolting,
The insanely hot from the astonishingly cold.
The sweet from the sour, the mild from the spicy; her poor taste buds roasting,
And hear the laughter of the very young and the very old.
"I wish I could see what you see, little girl,"
She told me one day, as I watched the setting sun;
The sky was really flaunting its best colors that day.
"Then it'd all be very different, my world.
I could watch all the colors melt into one,
And have it different every time. Not just the same, old way."
She smiled at me, lit up another cigarette, and said,
"Yeah. I see the same two colors all the time.
The solid, tough color and the easier going one, Black and White.
I don't know of those other colors: Yellow, Orange, Green, Purple, Blue, Red.
Isn't there Gold too? And Silver, the color of a dime?
I could spend all my time trying to distinguish one from the other, and I'd never get it right."
I noticed she was getting ready to leave the park.
She looked past me, towards the sky; I saw her squint once, then wince.
I looked above and noticed it was getting dark,
And when I looked back down, she was gone!
And I haven't seen her since.
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