I am not blue today, though I forgot.
I’m orange as the autumn leaves, blown astray:
Or, maybe a pumpkin with missing gut.
Seasons transform and summer fades away,
And seas hold the sun’s flag in disarray.
I hope sister Moon will rise, dressed in blue,
To alight the night with her lonely hue.
Though, I’d don the harvest gown, full and bold.
I miss those red-bikini days, it’s true,
When ideals, like cheap pearls, were bought and sold.