Picasso’s Blue Period Exhibition 1901-1904

Time ate away at your face
Gouged out your eyes
Until hollow sockets were all that remained

It was once beautiful
As were the hands that rested serenely on your lap
The same hands whose veined rivers pulsated and bulged over paper thin skin
towards the end

There were still stories in your face
Stories in those hands that grasped, stroked and cupped life
All its wonder and misery

Since you’ve gone
Everything has turned blue

The vase on the table across from the blue chair
Filled with forget-me-nots
Its wilted petals will soon scatter like confetti
onto the rug below

It’s not blue yet
But the days pass in slow motion
And I’m quite sure it’s turning blue

Picasso’s Blue Period Exhibition 1901-1904

Have I told you that blue tits come?
They sing only sad songs
I hear them as clearly as your voice
Calling for me as I sit here, frozen
Noticing the blue-tinged wallpaper

Have I told you that tomorrow I’m leaving the house to visit our local museum?
It’s the first time, since, you know