He wore then the crimson joy and golden grace
Reflected in the everlasting glow upon her face
Now vibrant hues have relinquished to the grey
Where once the rainbow danced in light of day.
When she wandered past on a faraway journey
She took away colors leaving behind just destiny
Now jinxed he is serving his time in a static tone
Finding monochrome apt for him to walk alone.
The crisp white starch, a canvas blank and cold
Against an ashen feel of trousers, worn and old
No blue, crimson sky or green of spring remains
Just wearing a steel façade over broken pieces.
An accursed soul in linen, mourning what is fled
He wears the void that she left him in her stead.
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