The Azure Palate

If color could be savored, a silent, cool delight,

Then blue would be a flavor born of fading light.

Not bitter, nor too sweet, but like a distant hum,

A secret on the senses, exquisitely numb.

It tastes of morning mist, before the sun breaks through,

Of glacial melt, a purity, refreshingly new.

A hint of wild blueberry, forgotten in the frost,

A silent, liquid sapphire, eternally embossed.

It's the ocean's deepest sigh, the sky's expansive grace,

A melancholy yearning, found in time and space.

A quiet contemplation, a cool and boundless calm,

A balm for restless spirits, a tender, silent psalm.

On the tongue, it lingers, a crystalline perfume,

Dispelling every shadow, illuminating gloom.

The taste of blue, a memory, a dream I can't quite hold,

A story whispered softly, eternally untold.