Home Depot does not sell azure paint.
No. They do have Morning Sky,
Tropical Lagoon, Morning Breeze,
Ocean Cruise, Cozumel, Empress Teal,
Almost Aqua, and Navy.  But no azure.  
No cyan, either. No plain ol' blue.
I will take my verdant money elsewhere.
Home Depot should be more poet friendly.

r ~ 4/29/14

When all the world had lost its senses,
There was always you.
When wars are raging,
Children starving,
I lost myself in you.

When I envision your sweet face,
Loving eyes, saving grace,
I knew at once I found the best,
I knew at once I found some rest.

Our love will grow with double pains,
Double pleasures,
Loss and gains.
The hate in love is love's regret,
The love in hate we both beget.

     (the separation is setting in;
      you lie above, no need at all
      in narcisstic love.
      I cringe below; sullen and sour;
      I don't know)

Yes, passion's desires get caught between
Our reason and emotion.
What can I do? what can I say?
I'm dumb-struck with devotion?

Fury found in eyes that glare,
Fuming sheets that smoulder;
Clenched, my fist once did hold
A love, but now a soldier.

     Meet me in the morning,
     Just as the sun will rise,
     And there we'll mark our paces,
     And pledge our love won't die.

Search in autumn shorelines,
I'm standing in the sand;
Found guarding my own pill-box,
With destruction in my hands.

     Meet me in the time of love,
     Will you be my second?
     Relieve my eyes that guard a fancy,
     Release a heart so fecund.

Leave me shrouded in the evening mist,
Help the shooting stop.

Now leaves are yellowed with vericose veins,
And loosen with arthritic hands;
Our one-time love lifts with the night,
I've lost you once again.

I'm ready to quit trying.
I think I've hit the bottom.
I want to wither.
And sleep.
Fade into dust.

You are in as little a hurry
This morning
As you've ever been.
Re-engage your safety.
Holster your stress.
Your car is a gun.
Your key the trigger.

Two ton hollow-points flying
Down every street in the world; lead
In search of potential tissue.

The father witnessed his own heart
-Shape and weight of a five-year-old-
Break into molecules midplay
On the parking lot
Under a blind reverse.
Perhaps the groceries blocked her view.
Clip emptied in a split second.
Your car is a gun.
Your car is a gun, a child's tunnel vision
As narrow as the barrel of a .22.
Aim carefully, away from people.
Squeeze, don't pull. You hold lives with
Your steering wheel. Destinies under your feet.
Every turn you make has room for tragedy.
Your car is a gun.
A hot, smoking gun.

You are in as little a hurry
This morning
As they are to put something so
Small in the ground
And return with heavy unhealable hearts
To a house
That won't see them smile
For another five.