Sunshine Pockets

A dark and dreary day she put citrine crystals in her pockets. Chase away the mighty gray with a hidden burst of sparkly orange. With any hope she had some holes in them there pockets, anything to release a few rays of glory on my dim outlook. As the phone rings I find that maybe she had a few worn seams. Sixty minutes later and I think my skin gained an unearthly glow that centered somewhere near my chest. Citrine in her pockets to ride throughout the day, shedding its spicy light affecting those in indigo crevices. How fortunate my soul to have such a chemical reaction to one who has never failed; always on my shoulder from miles and miles away. Who can believe the continuum reacts whenever my soul shudders in darkness? Yellow and gold; warmth to hot. Feeling alive with a simple gesture, words that make sense to only her and myself. Completely understand the meaning of our alien thoughts. Another planet may guide her; it bleeds to me. Citrine in her pockets