Ashen Blue

She writes lovesongs about letters

And poems about people…

Her eyes- ashen blue- watch the sky

As she walks on her two feet,

But steps over one,

Her heart torn between

The freedom to cry,

The innocence to lie,

And the promise to die

In those lovesongs and lyrics,

The poets from people

She knows nothing of,

As her eyes- ashen blue- paint the sky

With a rainbow in the colour

Of mourning, when the sunrise

Alights upon objects

On windows: cluttered creatures

Made of stone;

Other companions of the deceased,

Other friends of the roamers,

That she’ll spot with those

Ashen blue, jazz-hands in par;

There her little other lives

In the poems and private

Open doors of the skies

Welcome formulated dances

Of her eccentricities,

And my lady of the language

Waltzes about her duties:

She writes lyrics in lycra,

Lime is her lovelight,

Her praise is for all the people

Passing in that sunset,

The skies turning bruise-black

From their ashen blue.

The End

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