Unblue

I sit in front of Chiesa e Cripta del Santo Sepolcro.

And look up to the sky.

Wonderful things are happening to my friends.

I look at the cross against the light blue.

And understand that the time to grief has come.

For the years the love has been absent.

For the times the cherry blossoms have not unfold.

When the skies have been anything but blue.

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