Something Blue
The Skylight’s Pink. There’s a Hoot Owl winks
In the mist and the morning shadows.
Love and life, like a sculptures knife,
Has carved a world of sorrows.
Grieving Blue, if all you knew
Was half of all you’ve known
You’d rise above the push and shove
To find that you have grown.
Crimson Red, the Beggar’s bed
Is made of promises past.
If only we would, if only we could,
Make some promises last.
Basic Black, the Barter’s sack
Is filled with dreams we could not buy.
Those lies were wings and other things
With which we tried to fly.
So, Skylight Pink, stop and think,
Cast out your grieving blue,
Let lies die and touch the sky
The way you long to do.
For when you love a selfless love,
With a deeper shade of true,
Then all your faded dreams gone by
Will be... just something blue.
D. Thurmond / JEF
1970
The Beginning of my poems.
