The sky was your favorite shade of blue,

But you liked the smell of a storm rolling in so grey was OK too.

You never cared for your eyes, they were always too dark,

Until the world turned orange and caught their color just right.

Early mornings held a special place in your heart, when the clouds turn pink,

Like your lips, whispering sweet nothings before the world comes alive.

You loved every version the sky had to offer,

I wish you loved me like that too.

– z. d.