Blue

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 06, 2019

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Submitted: November 06, 2019

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I picked up a crayon of blue and drew- 

The dew of the grass that held, at dawn, my feet, 

A time the rain, I’d drawn, the lawn-

Capturing my effortless mourning time yawn. 

So I picked up a crayon of blue and drew that sky of dawn -

In time, before the rain, did fall, a passing shower before morning. 

Where there was no longer rain pouring 

 

But the presence of dew I drew, with blue. 

And found my thoughts to be as the birds that flew to the rainy dew I drew.

In line with my feet in the lawn-

No longer dawn.

But I didn’t notice a shift to the story,

I knew nothing but of the blue of dew, the crayon set before me.

Is there sun inside the skeleton? 

I questioned this in mo(u)rning. 

 


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