I am sure of my feelings for you.
As sure as the sky is blue.
Sometimes it is a deep blue, other times a light blue.
Still the sky is blue, as my affection for you is sure.
There are times the sky appears grey …
such times it tears apart and bleeds out,
drenching the earth in its tears.
I have also seen it appear a barren grey.
Lacking the pregnancy that births rain.
Still, the world over, everyone knows, the sky is blue.
In the night the sky becomes black.
Like the buttocks of an African pot.
Its beauty appears lost.
Many a night, like fireflies in an enchanted forest,
stars brighten up the black sky.
In its magical beauty, the night sky bewitches many a dreamer.
Rouses a tempestuous desire that drags my foot out to the dance field.
Yet always, the sky stays blue.
And my foot stays in your hut.
