A Crayon Coloured World

She picks out her favourite blue dress
And the pink that goes on her nails
Leaves a half-read book on the table
And a collection of unread mail

The sky is a shade grey to perfection
Green life passes by her window pane
There's a tree dancing in the wind
Rejuvenated after the rain

He flips up a silver coin
On a dusty brown table it lands
He chases ephemeral worlds
The last member of a music band

He picks up a yellow piece of paper
With a tale written in black ink
He had left her a thank you note
And the poem was a tenuous link

She rides into an orange sunset
A night of violet feelings awaits
He closes the door behind him
He is already an year late

He lives in a crayon coloured world
And the outlines are all in a haze
He waits for the end of the present
It's sadly not a passing phase