Remembered Blue
When I think of blue,
my closed-eyes mind sees green–
sheen of Minnesota lawn stretching flat
past pasture, where behind a straggle-wire
fence my grandmother straddled, impossibly,
a horse called grey as white
as her own curls, so very long ago that all
I truly remember is awe
as huge as the sky.
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55 belated for the G-Man. Go tell him to have a great weekend. You too.
ManicDDaily 
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