red loosens
a walk across the fields
grass pushing cobwebs aside
toes squeezing through
old school shoes
a deep blue
facing you
holding the horizon
floating quietly
wine red
thread chasing
quickly behind
sunlight
catching dull red
across soft rubber
air holds the thread tight
as if to claim it first
a laugh slips past
lighter
than you remember
something
loosens
in
you
the laughter
circles your ears gently
air slowing
a warmth
moves
from the blue
something
reminding you
earth below
holding the grass apart
remembering you
the thread
on your first finger
pulls hard
red choosing a path
laughter passes
time slowing
just a fraction
to let you feel more
red holds again
eyes pinned by blue
another smile
following too
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All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery
What I love in this poem is how it feels like stepping into a memory you didn’t realise was still alive. The small details — the shoes, the grass, the red thread — bring back that strange mix of childhood freedom and quiet wonder. The moment the laughter appears is beautiful; it feels like something inside you loosening without warning. I like how the poem slows everything down, as if the air itself were giving you permission to feel more. The red thread pulling, the blue holding your gaze — it all feels symbolic in a way that doesn’t try too hard. There’s a warmth moving through the lines, the kind that comes from remembering a version of yourself you thought you’d outgrown. And that final smile feels soft, almost shy, but real. It’s a gentle piece that lingers long after you finish reading.
This feels like stepping into a memory you can almost touch. <3