In the clouds I see the whites of her eyes.

and in the pages of every book I read the wrinkles of her smile.

Staring down into my morning coffee

calls to memory a tightly curled lock of hair around my finger.

Warm buttered bread and

Freshly picked sunflowers.

She’d take three sugars in her tea and leave

Nothing behind but the palest shade of pink.

Her laugh filling every corner of every room.

My ribs just bursting with joy at the sight

of her joy

And the colours.

All the colour she brought into my life

is no more.

Her warmth replaced by the coldest shade of grey. Soft wet earth pulling her under.

A red rose,

The only reminder

That beauty once lived here.