The colour of reading,
like a straight rainbow,
thrives in the mind's eye
where pigment meets lid.
There is nothing that cannot
call itself blue
from time to time,
or wonder if treading
on the hands of a clock
might divide the hours.
As in the case of some
histories, the 'i's
undot themselves
and draw a line under
the unforgettable.
It was you who told me,
and it came between us.