The Longing of Blue for the Brush

Standing behind the blue throne,
accretions of shifting surface graffiti light your visage.
Look the other way – while we regard you,
cast through the lens of for-never.
Turquoise velvet grandeur – an ache of pure colour,
longing burns in our veins.
We will paint our own palm trees,
colour our own sky blue sky.
Oceans in our ears,
shells held high.
Forever, I shall hold the brush,
as you take your seat, My Dear.