Forgiveness is a color of blue

that lifts it's weary lids to gaze at me

pale tragedy comes from you

but instead it's my own reflection I see


A blue ocean in shiny, glass-like calmness after a storm

the voiceless tempest has stilled

standing before you not to mourn

for the dark blue mood that has been killed


Together our eyes look at blue heavens above

after a gray mist has cleared

Is what I feel for you love I ask through my tears

you smile and say it could be, my dear


Underneath a large tree we sit without a word

as azure blossoms float through the air

I realize now I've found my bluebird

happiness and blissful without a care


He catches a blossom in his hand

opening his fingers, the flower is not blue but red

no pain, no tears let it trickle away like the sand

always remember me and I will never be dead


This is a poem I wrote about what it could be like if Peter came back for one day just outside Heaven and I had an opportunity to speak to him. I'm not a poet, and maybe some of you will agree with that statement, but it's surprising what can purge from the depths of the human soul late at night if you look long and hard enough.