Purple

Gusts of pure purple

Are the compliments that snake

Up from your umbrella

I watch the clouds with hungry eagerness

And I note their sheen

Their luminescent outline

And I wish to be enveloped

To drink deep of confirmations

That I’ve got “the gift,” “the spark”

That I've caught your eye

Or perhaps your breath

That when I leave your sight

you will not forget

But the purple arcs

Away from me

And billows slowly outward

Until all that’s left and seen

is doubt