blue, by you.

.

this poem is a lake.

it takes its colors from the sky
breathes fire and spills itself
at sunset. It has yet
to hold itself fully at bay,
sways with the breeze.

this poem tenders trees
and timbres song.
it puffs its pink cheeks
out, waves its own skin
and begins again
another day.

this poem plays
along the sand, holds hands
with wandering
shore. this poem

holds more
than its own blue
tears, its sacred years of spilling
song. this poem longs

for its Creator,
a greater dance,
a worship stance
that pleases its
prosaic trance.

this poem is a second
chance.

 

..

 

..

 

 

 

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