The Red Window

The world is all Blue
because we look at it
through a Blue window.
Parting the curtains,
Across the window-sill,
Ignoring all that lies between
us and the window.
The window is Blue,
So is the room,
And so are we.
That makes the world all Blue.

Let us ponder
over the sanctity
of our Blue surroundings.
What makes it Blue?
Blue thoughts, Blue visitors,
Blue stick-ons and Blue memories.
If it's got a Blue past
And if that's the color we like,
it's Blue for life.

Say, something changes me,
Makes me a new man,
A woman, perhaps.
Or a well-placed comment.
Or just a drink with a stranger,
A wise stranger.
And I fall for Red.

So the conversations in my room
are all splashes of Red.
Red streaks, Red blots,
Spurts of Red laughter,
Waves of warm Red smiles.
It is a Red room.

And the cold wind
is now blood Red.
The sun shines Scarlet.
I share a Red coffee with my beloved
And couples kiss under a Red moon.

My future might all be Purple
like my childhood was a sunny Yellow.
The healed scars speak of a Blue past.
The present is alive in Red.

And I look at my Red world
through a Red window.

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