Mountains rooted either side of my neck today,
watered by the grey clouds circling above.
The orange was mocking and overbearing,
a sour fruit
bereft of all zest.
It painted my mood with sepia,
and I worried it would stay that way,
conscious of what it may cause me to do.
But you were patient
and willing to overlook,
happy in the knowledge that I at least knew
what I was like
slumped against the day.
You brought rivers of music,
chestfuls of laughter
and an evening of family chatter and games.
The colours of myself returned
and wrapped me in a warm blanket
embroidered with pieces of your heart.