by Stephanie Harris
Itís a perfect summer sky in late afternoon
And the garter at a wedding to guard against doom.
It sounds like the cascade of a flowing waterfall
And the death knell that severs the chain from the ball.
It tastes like candy on Christmas Eve
And the bile that rises when you pack to leave.
It feels like the quilt your mom sewed by hand
And the uncertainty of a finger freshly stripped of a band.
It can make you feel tranquil, joyous, resolute,
Melancholy, woeful, and dismal, too.
It can be success, or the death of a dream,
Your own endless tears or a babbling stream.
It can go either way, itís all up to you,
Thatís the contradiction of the color blue.
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