My Little Yellow Room

g.f. cabrera

Wrapped in cocoon layers of canary yellow
I sit soul open like the petals of a sunflower
Reaching upward-outward to the blue up-above
Soaked in rays of life content to be
Safe and warm from harms long grasp
All alone in my little yellow room

Sunlight pours fluidly through three big windows, flickering on the walls,
dancing carefree to and fro'
In innocent solitude, I ponder my fate
Into my yellowness drifts the lazy-day smells
dry grass, wild berries, young grapes and plum-filled trees
My own urban wilderness shifts restlessly in a big backyard
Bumblebees, horseflies and cousins unknown rummage ceaselessly
along the stretch of an old wire-wood fence
All of us connected by the warmth of mother above

Upward I gaze, eyes raised to the sky
Imaging life and its possibilities
Safe and comforted by a little yellow room
Gently, back and forth, swish, swish, I go
Rocking my body at the top of my bed
Seeing images vividly alive in my head
With the strength of my child's heart, I wish desperately
Make me into a movie star, a model
or a darling playboy bunny
A woman, beautiful, loved, desired by all
Surrounded by the warmth of admirers
Smiling brilliantly for the world to see

Please, oh please, my whisper escapes into air
Engaged in my silent dialogue, I try to renegotiate my fate
Make me that incredibly beautiful woman,
and I'll give you my sex
Bright red glossy lips, sparkly eyes lined in black,
shiny hair piled up high
Standing proud in the middle of a room
Camera-eyes follow her competing for attention
Inside my six-years-of-living body,
I yearn for the love of a crowd
A young confused mind desirous of things not understood
Wanting to feel love, be love, give love

Happy-thought daydreams born in my mind
Reflecting the isolate comfort of canary-colored moments
Safe for a while from the darkness of life
I sit in a state of temporary forgetfulness
Freed from the can't-say-it-outloud-or-I'll-die horrid truth
The knowing I won't speak-not even in the day
flitters round in my mind
Relief from the painful young-ancient
creepy-crawly feeling living under my skin
The fat worm swims up and down my veins
whispering in my blood
"you're different, you're different, you're different...
less wanting than the rest"
In my little yellow room,
lives wistful dreams of a child unloved.

Alone in my bedroom
A converted old-fashion back porch
Filled with fading memories of evening teas
and gentle rocking chairs
Miles away from the front of the house
I sit quietly at the head of my little twin bed
Facing my windows, lost in my head
Safe and alone in my little yellow room