if my sight goes, i know

on the greyest days

the clouds were paintbrush water

a sweet smudge of sorrow

the memory of colour

at the height of searing summer

when grass was scorched upon the earth

streets shimmered

like rivers

and when she died

the sky - more vivid, vibrant -

held the moon aloft

with a blue that did astound me

© 2020 courtney lavender

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