The Emotional Orphan

 

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?

 

Quiet Blue Nothing.