Patches of Navy

Dr. Neuhaus was correct, though his context not the same,
There are patches of blue among the gray scales,
Glimpses I live for, when the weight of my neck
Loosens for a few moments, and I can turn upwards,
Where my smile aches, and I am a child,
Walking in the hands of my mother
As she gazes over a wooden fence,
And we sit on the warm, thin grasses
Of a lumpy knoll eating jelly sandwiches,
My comfort her shoulder, her lax position,
Where I’m blue again, lite and navy
Folded into the passing shapes of white,
Begging in my inexperience
For just another Sunday like this one.