Blue is alive
There’s something about blue
Something that highlights the hue
Blue, it’s always true isn’t it
They call it sky blue
I think it’s the slide of
The ocean
Blue, it’s always a baby
Blue, it’s always deep
So deep, that your hand
Can’t touch the bottom
Because there is no bottom
There’s only the
Swishhh, Swiiiirl, swooorl,
That goes and goes and goes and goes
With a graceful gait in every stride
Blue, it’s always the lazy, easy, stretch of tongue
It’s the carefree brush of a paintbrush
Sliding the crosshatched surface
Of a canvas
It’s the slow droop of an eyelid
As the drowsiness settles in
It’s the slow curve of my hand
As it turns on a page
Blue is a poem
