Bluey-Greyey-Green

 Bluey Greyey Green

Have you seen 

That bluey-greyey-green?

When was it made?

Is it starting to fade? 

It’s of greyish-bluish mintage

Of course it is, it’s vintage,

It’s Morris Minor, sea foam,

Soft mist above the deep loam,

It’s shapely Denby pottery,

Whose glaze is matt,

Yet snottery

Tending more to greyish green, than blue,

Do tell me the name of this satisfying hue.

It’s Eau de Nil- dull duck egg-sage,

It’s the timelessness of age,

It encapsulates good taste,

Looks rather nice with salmon paste,

It will not date, it’s all the rage.

Is it greeny- bluey grey,

Or does it only look that way

In the English light of early dawn?

Is it distant frost across the lawn,

Is it mentioned in a list

Of most ‘quintessential shades’?

Is it mix of moulds all milky?

Genteelly tattered, silky,

Country house curtains?

Shadow dappled glades?

Is it the kindly eyes

Of a friend most dear and wise,

With a cataract lately grown?

Do tell me the name of this satisfying tone.