Colours of my Sweetheart

We met under the graceful blue,

We kissed goodnight below the ambient oranges,

A constellation of smiles beneath lilac skies,

We laid digressing on playful greens,

A bed of daisies for the blessed,

You played with my hazy yellow hair,

A gift of roses, a basket of pink delight.

These are the colours of my sweetheart.

A congregation of loved ones and elegant fairy lights,

Old timber barns dressed in ivy and white draperies,

Our mothers wept as we stood cloaked in Ivory,

A celebration of our union coated in floral and diamond,

Our vows spoken, fluent in the language of flowers,

I still remember your tears of endearment,

Sparking eyes, standing as man and wife.

A churchyard dusted with flowering confetti,

Gleaming silver rings brushed with sapphires; for our little eternity,

A dish of new moons drizzled in honey.

These are the colours of my sweetheart.

Memories warmed with burgundy mulled wine,

Jumping in heaps of crisp autumn and brass leaves,

Laughing in the warm glow of spookily carved pumpkins.

A blanket of a billion white crystals, secluding our world,

Woollen mittens warming your bare blue hands,

A bundle of fleece cuddled before Amber flames,

Roasting frosted toes beside the open fire,

Blizzard mornings toasted by pipping coffees.

These are the colours of my sweetheart.

Baby pink or baby blue; only we knew,

Our spring daffodils, smiles painted with joy,

Staring at saffron skylines with colourful expectations,

Early misty mornings met with tired yawns and fatherly hugs,

Crocheted picnic blankets serving an afternoon of amusement,

Cherished collections of Mother's Day cards kept in delicate boxes,

Pastel school projects proudly presented,

Beige carpets brightened by toys and tinkering tools,

Attempted birdhouses decorating the backyard,

Families of fledglings hopping along freshly cut grass,

Strawberry cupcakes with cerise frosting for breakfast.

These are the colours of my sweetheart.

Coral beaches lit with soothing sunlight,

Whistles and daydreams along copper pebbles beaches,

Cotton candy and peppermint painted beach houses,

Messy swirled ice-creams and sticky fingers strolling quietly,

Meandering along paths of content fishermen,

Echoes of sea birds tumbling tunefully beside the sea.

Naked, bronzing ladies snoozing, swallowed by large straw hats.

Pearl fishes swimming in shallow rock pools,

Rainbows of laughter escaping hysterical children.

These are the colours of my sweetheart.

Early Suns of Spring thawing frosts of New Year’s,

Hand Painted flower pots animated by young violet pansies,

Watching you plant, I lay sipping on cups of lemon infused tea.

Sweet green apples fallen from our baby tree,

Rusted and broken shovels line pathways of blossoming poppies,

Old cobbled boots stumbling along neat juniper bean rows,

Wicker baskets dressed in delicate daisy chains,

My cherry pinafore painted a warm brown,

Cinnamon candles glistening, cool indigo evenings,

Mornings illuminated by loving letters from our grown daffodils;

Smiles painted with gratitude and amity.

These are the colours of my sweetheart.

Silvery grey, your hair thickening,

Bright smiles leaving lines upon your face,

Spending lazy Sundays under the duvet, growing old.

Handsome man, your glow is fading,

Our bright, young daffodils have flown to face the sun,

We have fifty good years to watch the rose bushes grow.

Photographs smiling, memories framed on walnut mantelpieces,

Retired garden benches, fragranced with homegrown vanilla and peaches,

Overalls reminding me of fresh lavender and jasmine,

Wandering down vineyards, tasting vintage Tuscan red wines,

Chestnut cabinets encasing your Cuban cigars.

These are the colours of my sweetheart.

You said goodbye by the open fire.

I said goodbye to a wooden box filled with memories.

You kissed goodnight under our old apple tree.

You fell asleep watching over our once busy garden,

I fell asleep as our grown daffodils flew home.

You slept soundly in black,

I slept lonely with a tear stained handkerchief.

I find myself lost in your favourite gardening books,

Our placid garden untouched, jungled with my isolation,

When you're gone, greens turn to grey.

A lifetime painted with unity from the start,

These were the colours of my sweetheart.