Of colors and more

What are we if not colors painting our landscape, you with the yellow of your soul paint the flowers that grow in the green of my meadows.

If I think about it for a moment, I can feel the blue of your gaze filling the sky, while the gold of your hair brightens the brown leaves of my eyes.

Sometimes, I imagine you with the light of your skin coloring the fine sand of a beach, with a coppery sunset representing myself, and on other days, I picture ourselves being sun and moon sharing the same sky.

In your smile I can’t help but see the orange of those summer afternoons, and I can hear you say that the sun fills my eyes with the shine of honey.

Of colors we fill ourselves every day, whether they are bright or dark it matters little if we are both painting the same canvas.

At the end of our days a painting will remain, and we will give it a unique name; one that will last in our remembrance and fill eternity with colors.