There are mornings I wake and my world has taken on a new hue
Sometimes my lovely roses and reds have given way to blue

Everywhere I look I see the azure drops hanging so delicately
With the gentle power of one exhale it comes down to cover me

It envelopes me like the waves of the deep blue ocean
It can also twinkle like the cerulean of my eyes

Does it creep up from a place of sorrow and fall like tears
Or does it bring hope like the sky that holds our dreams

My thoughts go to the blue period of a man I respect
Picasso’s work will remain one of my favorites

I often imagined his brush was dipped in tears
Salt and pain expelled upon his canvas

How beautiful to open your heart for all to see
In my eyes his vulnerability became his strength

I put my pen to paper and watch the blue ink pour out
My canvas is on lined paper allowing you to peek inside

I do not fight the color in which I find myself swimming
Pour myself into the ebb and flow of these feelings

My heart will lead my hands and words
New tones will change my periods

But for now I will enjoy
being blue

*************

I keep describing my recent writing and art as being “blue”.
Not sure if it is just my mood or that part of my synesthesia taking over but I won’t fight it.
What is next?  Maybe ecru?
(which is not beige….hahaha)