Cat on a Fence

She sits there

waiting for the tom

or a robin.  She preens her long

Siamese coat.  She waits for the

Someone to let her back in to her

comfort, her food bowl, her safe bed.

She tucks against the

elements and unseen enemies

and imagined dangers and her fears.

She and I wait on our fences,

not willing to venture out, sitting on

 both sides of a decision.

 

Blue

I am blue frigid ice, still and deep and transparent,

dripping away day by day to my death.

With smooth curving waves on top and gurgling washing machine

underneath – the chemical blue swimming pool work mode is

unnatural in appearance and masks my clear nature.

I am blue eyes and dark grey edges searching intently into your

Soul until you cannot meet my gaze going back into myself and

both of us at once.  I am blue ink flowing from God onto paper

in ideas I did not create and cannot explain nor take credit for.

There is blue mood sadness and melancholy matching that ice blue cold

so closely that no one wants to linger long at my side.

I am blue in every piece of clothing that was my high school wardrobe until,

I changed;

told it was too much and that I needed to be different than the blue

that I was, the blue that I loved.   Okay, I said, and walked away

from blue me only to return a lifetime of years later to find me,

again,

rich blue velvet in ageless style.