I could picture growing old with her,

spending my entire life experiencing her colours.

I spoke to my dad about how I finally understood his love of the sky.

He broke into tears and told me what it was like when my mother died.

He said that the moment the colour drained from her cheeks,

so did all of the colours of his life.

He said he still occasionally sees colours,

like how on my wedding day,

he could see everything in the room in faded colour,

as if she was back from the dead.