Sometimes the most simply things take a while to seep in . . . a special time, a special place.

it’s a blue brocade morning
hued and rustled deep within
raining outside; flooding in
my memories are colored
beautifully blue . . . lacking soul
like a Christmas sock with coal
surviving on rich fantasies
that cover tapestries quite bare
‘cause I lacked someone to care
. . . or a knight from some crusade

it’s a blue brocade feeling
there’s a stranger at my side
‘cause the love we once had died
tears declined to be released
so the funeral was delayed
‘til an eve of blue brocade
all the crinkles came in ripples
moonlight danced in midnight blue
all the tears loosened were true
. . . in a hue of blue brocade