Secret Blue

Secret Blue

They think I love purple best.

They see me tenderly nurture

my small pot of hearts-ease,

surround myself with amethyst,

wear clothes in all shades

from soft lavender to rich magenta –

but no, my longest, deepest love

is for blue – deep blue,

the colour of ocean

(the Pacific, that jewel

adorning these shores)

or the unequivocal, singing blue 

of a sunlit sky in high midsummer,

uninterrupted vista ...

the blue of cornflowers 

and sky-high mountains,

a love I shared with my Dad

when I was very young, before

I was disillusioned, learning him

selfish and weak ... but

the love of blue remains

(and of cornflowers and mountains).

Blue is the colour 

of my true loves' eyes –

two of my husbands,

three of my lovers:

(divided differently) three 

the pure, soft blue

of the sky in Spring; 

two the blue of the sea

lit with bright turquoise,

or the centre of a flame.

The darkest blue is the sapphire

in the ring you gave me –

dear third husband

and last lover –

to declare your love 

and mark our marriage.

The gold band is now so thin ...

and you gone seven years into death ...

I finally took it off. 

But I see it still without even looking:

a depth of blue so enduring 

it might be mistaken for black –

and far within, when I gaze,

that flash of hidden, constant light.

Written for Thotpurge's Poetry Tuesday #4 – Blue

And shared in Writers’ Pantry #4 at Poets and Storytellers United.