Cerulea, an ode to thee.

Oh,shut it!

Heathen, philistine, have you no couth?

Yeah, yup, got your couth right here.

Sir, unhand yourself. I herald the day we reach our destination. Sweet Cerulea. Oh, to while the days away in sweet Cerulean rapture. I shall. You'll see.

  • Poetry
  • July 04, 2025