Why is it a color of sorrow?
It is the color of a clear day
free from fog or rain.
The hue of succulent fruit,
of reflective ocean waves
greetings in such familiar fashion,
and clean toilet bowls.
Antiseptic, scoured and restful,
blue makes great shoes
but not great depression.
Color it mauve. Color it puce.
My depression is a patchy mottled khaki.
My pleasure is blue.


About E

Even as a child, I read voraciously. Writing has always been a natural outlet. Sometimes bordering on macabre or edgy, I was not always safe and even today I look at some of my writing and raise an eyebrow. Read me at your own risk. I am but a 30-something professional (don't ask a professional what, for I won't answer!) who spends nights as a dreamer and sometimes writer.
This entry was posted in 2015, poetry, random thoughts and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s