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BLUE
Dim blue hills in the distance lie,
White clouds drift in the clear, blue sky,
Bluebells bloom where the blue bird sings,
And flies away on swift blue wings.
A blue stream winds where violets grow,
And blue flags nod in a blue-gold row,
But bluest of all in this land of blue,
Lies a little blue lake of deepest hue.
As though from out of its blue depths clear,
The blue sky had dropped a great big blue tear.
I really love this poem, as
I really love this poem, as blue, or becoming blue, is the meaning of the Latin word I use as my name (actually, an appellation) on my poems.
Starward