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Elena Oct 2019
Our bed is the epitome of careless love
singing,
“Blue caress, blue sheets, blue dove”
But creaking like broken bones
And eyes so sleep deprived
This voice was cracking
And failed to verse the final line.
So this is what we call rosy then
A bare thorn without a flower?
Your music transparently
repeats our chilling song
But still you sing,
“Blue promise, blue jay, blue flame”
And with the softest blow
We always fade away
As bells softly chime
A ringing cry,
“Blue dreams, blue freedom, blue winged bird of mine.”

— The End —