I think it's really funny to read a poem that you wrote in 1990 - one that your parents had proudly saved and then mailed to you randomly some 18 years later. (Thanks, Mom, I got a kick out of this). I actually kind of remember writing this poem and remember being very pleased with myself. Of course, reading it now I can't help but chuckle at my attempt:
What Is Blue?
Blue is the sky,
blue is the waves,
blue is the color of crystal in caves.
blue is the oceans,
blue is the seas,
blue is the bluebird who sings in the trees.
Blue is the color of butterfly wings,
blue is the color of beautiful things.
Blue is a color of our Texas flag.
Blue is the color of balloons in a bundle,
blue is the color of ooze in a bottle.
Blue is a name of music, as I hear it,
the sound drifts away, in beauty.
Wow. Grammatical errors aside, did you know that the word "bundle", when you're a 9-year-old, rhymes with the word "bottle"? And that the inclusion of the Texas flag in ANY poem adds a certain je ne sais quoi? Also, I'm not sure WHAT in the world I was imagining with regard to the "ooze in a bottle". I mean, we had some pretty interesting Girl Scouts experiments but I don't recall glowing blue ooze in a bottle. Maybe its radioactivity brainwashed my childhood memories. How about the quasi-delusional idea that there is, somewhere out there, a cave filled with lovely blue crystals? I sure would love to visit such a place. Maybe next time I'm in Narnia I could check that out.
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