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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