“Painted blue”

Dear child, I see your cloudy sky can’t be painted blue, why that hue?

When the world wains in your eyes,

let the tears leave nude trails along your teal portrait.

Show me your colored emotions;

let me hang you in my gallery

and admire this exhibition of

melancholy ballet.

Your pretty dance with sadness

leaves your feet sore from walking

back and forth from your

head to your heart,

around and around

until you’re all wound up.

Dear child, I see your baby face

and it’s painted blue.

Is that the shade of “you”

that you’re used to?