My Book Blue

Photo on 2017-09-20 at 8.37 AM

I have held this book
I have read this book
I have sought clarification
I have sought guidance
It has never let me down
It has always shown me options
We have been friends since 1998
I have mended its falling pages
I have duck-taped it more than once
My book has never complained
I have drifted on occasion
My eyes, caught by the new and younger
With its cover all shiny and slick
It’s pages so white they reflect the glare of the sun
With more sophisticated explanations
More adventure within its lines
I only drift for a short time
Tiring so quickly by the new
I may drift but I always come back
I come back to you my dear blue book
You, having been shoved in every bag and suitcase I own
You, my dear blue that never demands a thing
You have always flown through customs without a hitch
You never get tired to fly
You have never spoken a lie
Are the shadow that watches my back
Never have you left me hanging
I will continue to tape your pages
I will always come to you first
You have explained
stairs, eggs, ladders, and bees
You are my confidant and never tire of my thoughts
My book of blue
You know me better than I know you
My dear friend
My Book Blue


At times it’s the strangest thing that pulls us back in history. My book of dream definitions has seen me from when I first started to sculpt. It has been with me through my husband’s illness and has helped me explain my paintings for shows. I have duck taped this poor book so often that now it has its own personality. It has its secrets and its own life.   My book also has my husbands handwriting on the inside cover, this gives it, even more, importance as I continue to walk and talk and create my way through this life as a widow, a widow without a manual.
Can a book become your friend? There are days when I think YES.



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