What I call blue, you see green.
What you call bitter, I taste sweet.
Nor even know the truth of it
if there is truth at all.
Blue is a summer sky, loneliness.
Green is young grass, envy.
We wrap our words in our own
meanings, unwrap each other’s
with our own metaphors.
You said to me
I loved you the first time I saw you,
the way you looked in blue.