Now I hear nothing.
Quiet Blue Nothing.
I feel the warmth of the sun.
I stare at the moon
I know I’ve seen it before.
Your face was a globe
betraying the places you’ve been
things you’ve seen.
Scorched in places ,
a tell,
bathed in beautiful glow…
Blue Flame at its edges.
Blue. My favorite color;
My favorite music.
From men and women
named for colors,
or farm animals like Rooster,
descriptions like Muddy or LeadBelly.
You. The milkmaid.
I called you that.
Named after your skin;
Your description colorless
more pale.
Why ?
The milkmaid
telling, living,
their soulful stories
with your life.
Singing a different tune.
From a different time.
Too many lyrics,
Not enough music or soul.
A song with too many voices
Talent with no gift.
A Tabernacle Choir of voices,
each with it’s own song.
Now I hear nothing.
Quiet Blue Nothing.
What I feel is from outside
Like the warmth of the sun.
What I see is in the sky
Like the moon.
The rest?