Mustard Sky

I close my eyes and listen to you lie.

You tell me that mustard is the color of the sky.

I open my eyes and don’t dare look.

I clench my hands as they shook.

I ask, “Then what about the sun?”

It looks like a turkey way past done.

I do everything not to smile,

but his charm creeps in after a while.


Maybe I misunderstood.

I wonder if I love him. I surely could.

Before I can look up, he stops me.

He asks, “You believe it? How can that be?”

Suddenly, his lips touch mine.

I never thought his skin could be so fine.

Again, I close my eyes,

but this time I picture the mustard skies.

*Photo Credit*


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