then rests on the trampoline of a daisy's sway
masquerading drab moth exterior, hiding hues
My blue was born under a wide open Texas sky
in his Ocean eyes in two blue lines on a white stick
Blue relishes attention midday
relinquishes the spotlight to rosy morning and amber dusk
sandwiched in the grand entrance and the grand finale
the steady wallpaper of a lazy afternoon
My blue admonishes her bluejays,
"Stop the bullying and just be beautiful!"
She speaks a bold silence
the blueberry on the vine
waiting to gush and delight
the curl of the wave
waiting to crash into white
the cotton candy bagged
waiting to sticky your fingers
My blue lacks the caution of yellow
rolls her eyes at the ego of red
charmed by her impish purple cousin
My blue hides in a box of clouds
where shapes are freed to flirt with imagination
She sings a song of peaceful longing
a familiar melody that curves up the mouth with hope
She hangs out with teal when she's up for a good dare
vacations with green on tropical isles
My blue is not sad
Her sighs are like stretches
She's just flexing her wings.
"Color is the place where our brain and the universe meet." Paul Klee
"The trial exposed their true colors: They were incredibly happy, though desperately poor. The pressure triggered something totally unexpected: an outpouring of pure and generous gifts."
2 Corinthians 8:2-3
"When you're feeling a little broken, that's just a chance for your inner beauty to peek through."
(-A whisper from God when this butterfly landed on my finger)
(-A whisper from God when this butterfly landed on my finger)
