On a Painting

Within my mind, I step
into your created room
wherein everything is blue,
even the shape of you

among outlined objects,
brush striped black.
Desolation to be found,
spread out onto the canvas,

hides for hues of summer blues
beyond the one painted window,
persuasively alluring my eyes
begging me to hurry outside,

to walk through green fields
down to quiet water of a lake;
yet I stay to wonder about you,
captured in your room of blues.