​​​

​East Fork:

A Journal of the Arts​​


I became tearful at the sundown changing the color of the sky.


I watched it take small strokes against the canvas in order to strike away its idiosyncrasy.


I wanted to hide behind it in hopes that it would fool everyone into thinking that was my beauty.


The bright rays of yellow would make me shine too much.


The rueful reds would make me forget myself in a mixture of peacefulness and self-forgiveness.


The oranges would make me noticed in the way I feel entitled to.


I watched the sun disappear, making sure to leave no trace behind.


It always made me feel better at the end of the day.


I walked away to leave my blues behind, keeping my greens in my hip pocket.


If I saw the sun this way, then perhaps any type of insignificant thing can be seen as magnificent.


I could be magnificent.  

Colors
By: Gabriella Sizemore