He would always run.
His flat feet carried him far from home,
toward a distant serenade,
where his laughter
lit up hearts in blue,
like a summer sky.
Now I kiss the clouded sky;
his life in this dimension ran
its course like a plush blue
flame that licked our layered home
with anger and laughter—
a dysfunctional family serenade.
I serenade
the shadowed night sky,
remembering his laughter,
choosing not to run
from his home
filled with memories coated in blue.
The days, painted pale blue,
like a soft serenade,
with lyrics that say “come home,”
filling the bare sky
in gray clouds that run
with raindrops. I miss his laughter.
My loud laugh,
a sparkled blue
cacophony, has returned. It runs
like a Calypso serenade
to life filled sky.
His memories reside in our home.
They say home
is the heart, but I prefer laughter
that reaches the sky,
that stretches into sparkly blue.
A joyful serenade
With ebb and flow, like a river running.
This house, a kaleidoscope of red, gold, and blue,
the colors of lemon laughter, a silky serenade of love,
a silver sky running with hope.
