Green sky.

I complain.

We have improved together

Through each other,

A system composed of only two parts.

You used to complain, too. 

You told me you would complain about the weather 

As if the sky was out for you,

But we both know

She has more important things to do.

True colors were all that showed,

And it seemed

Like freshly dyed cloth,

Vibrant and honest

Destined to fade.

As a child I only knew

The truest hue of any color.

If I knew to, I would pray

That the view never dulled.

I didn't have to with you.

That day the air was humid,

And my hair was a cloud,

And we knew the sky was for us,

And so we put on our best naive faces

To playfully scorn its beauty.

We knew a temperate day 

Would only serve to mock us;

That the clouds were welcome,

Though an uninvited guest.

I knew that day

Peace and love and understanding;

My life became a '60s anthem.

I owed it to you. 

All at once, the illusion vanished.

It was all bleak,

As it should be.

If only I could really see!

Relativity felt new to me.

My blue is gray to you,

Oh, it's all good.

I don't need to understand. 

Oh, surely, peace is off the table.

Love, love, love.

The track changed, a Beatles tune.

Now it felt right,

But what would betray me next?

The pendulum swung (swang?)

And it lasted for months.

You didn't show up,

Not like you did.

That's alright, too.

The air in the atmosphere moves,

Its moisture seeping into

Exposed fabric.

The cloth fades.

You didn't complain too much.

Mostly to fill the silence.

I thought the playful scorn

Was as reflexive as the wind.

The air moves when it has to,

And not more. 

I saw the beauty in you,

The way I saw a temperate day.

Did it mock me?

Could I ever be so much

As the atmosphere?

Regardless, I would want

To be green anyway.