The colors of clouds on a sunny day surround me.
They float before me to wrap me in words.
I’m floating across the sky with white and tender forms.
While colorless tile and tub support my glide.
My bruises and pains are washed away.
Talking softly I am held up by memory
Does remembrance offer purity and security?
While fires burn around me?
Is it Blanc that tattoos itself with each touch at waters rim?
Is it Blanc that carries me with these “love letters to God?”
That helps me live and love and make me pure.
