Poem By Sebastian Sandok
If I were to ask you to define blue,
what would you give me?
An answer perhaps, a weak precarious definition
you may even possibly take me on a quest,
for blue, of course.
You would say, shall we?
and off we’d go
to some distant cove,
where the sea laps upon the shore,
and the blue isn’t as much blue
To sail over a few clouds,
a mere dollop of foam spooned onto
a quiet sky blue hue of true.
Then you’d tell me,
if we're lucky, and only if so
we may discover it.
For the answer to my question does not lie in words,
ran from the spigot of a mouth,
but its echo is lost in the sea
and bound to the sky.
Every shade, every hue