Cerulean Blue

With one finger
I paint a
Cerulean blue streak

from the center
of my forehead
down to the tip
of my nose

for no reason
other than as an
iconic memorial for the
hue of the Mediterranean sea

that I have not
seen personally yet,
so I pay homage
from afar, in a

celebration of an
open third eye,
an open passport
and an open mind

with a roving foot
and a riveted foot
which to heed?

by Ayn Timmerman

Other poems of TIMMERMAN (37)

Comments (1)

Ayn I enjoyed reading yo poem, keep writing