Oh, poor boy

A bitter-sweet poem about colors, sorrow, and regret. I wrote this poem some time ago but decided to publish it today.

He loved green, purple, yellow and red,

He loved late nights when he was going to bed.

He loved the colors of the early morning,

And he never found a sunset boring.

 

The blue of the ocean and the orange fall,

These are the things he misses most of them all.

His lover’s green eyes, and his mother’s pink pies,

These are the things you remember till you die.

His shadow in the sun and the glimmer of gold,

These are the memories that will never grow old.

 

He was happy, loved and rarely shed tears,

But these are the moments when misfortune appears.

Oh, the poor boy, he lost it all, he is in pain.

He will never see those wonders, again.