When I wake up summer mornings
my room is filled with a shade of blue.
I remember where I saw it for the last time-
I saw it on you.
It was this smurf-sweater
not suiting the color of your skin,
nor the scent of you perfume at all.
'Though you left,
summer's blue's not passed.
© in 2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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