Under The Blue
Blue. So much blue.
Rolling, waltzing, rejoicing.
Limits so far beyond the seeing eye, around the clouds and the sun..the blue.
Some days He would pretend he could talk to that sky, could speak to it. Ask it where it got its color, and where He could get his own.
Where He might warp the pink of the flowers in the green grass below..around his small body, like a fine entertainers cape.
But there was no one to entertain here was there?
He sat. Far away under the blue, dreaming sometimes what the feeling of the wind against his cheek might be...
What the children, children like him, yet so not as him, might say if they could hear the many songs He sang to the clouds.
But they were far away, too far, a lifetimes' distance, across the green grass, swinging on their wood and metal seats, up...
Up!
To kiss the blue, to trace the wind in their hair...
Laughing!
'Do you want to play? Tag? Red Rover? I can run fast! I can jump higher! I can, I can!'
His clutched grip dug into his leg, drawing a drop of blood against red flesh and a mangled squeak from a smashed rubber duck.
He was suppose to be under the blue, somehow He knew that there...
"Dear, stop playing with that foolish viewing crystal, you'll soil your eyes with ugly human faces!"
He hopped obediently into the shadows, hugging an armful of black hair and glittering amber stones.
"Yes, Mama..."
After all, He had never been outside.
The other children couldn't hear.
But, some days He would pretend he could talk to that sky, could speak to it.
Ask it where it got its color, and where he could get his own.
Rolling, waltzing, rejoicing.
Under the blue.