TITLE: In Blue Heaven
By Diane L. Harris
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From my bed --
I saw a woman in a violet dress
floating not too far above the ground
set against an aqua sky.
I heard jazz --
trumpet, the piano, saxophone, bass, drums --
rippling, rocking, whispering, whining and blaring.
The musicians improvised.
Sounded blue --
not like the ocean or the sky or THE blues,
but like lilac toilet water pouring from a cobalt colored bottle.
The Blue Woman closed her eyes;
she relaxed, listening.
Her head dropped back, her body supported
on the palm of a royal blue hand.
I slipped into her sweet ride;
feeling safe, succored by
the big, soft sky, the slight scent of lilac
on my skin, and the sea and jazz.
I wore the perfect blue dress
and no shoes.
All in a moment,
any others who thought they knew bliss
but I wished we all could know it.
I have missed that moment always,
so much that I have no tears.
I can try to recreate it,
but what substitutes for floating
in blue, on the hand of God?
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