Memories like faded Monet’s

windswept pastels and periwinkles

permeate into one hour. The Blue Hour...

the hour lost in the world of egg yolks

Pirouetting the equator line

that divides

the latitude that lusted for the sun, the stars,

the cobalt sky.

with solace it longed to be departed from

The milk washed violet dreams

where vigor seeks

a meteoric silence that ushered

Azure rays igniting light

that cracks behind the clouds beaming

whispers of secrets

unveiling echoes of Gymnopedie No.1

As it dances in the breeze

The wind doused by the rhythm of

the pulsating waves by the indigo shore

Deafens my senses
   Deafens me
      Deafens my world.