Universe plays games with us.
Coincidental. Unwanted. Ironical.
So, when I tell someone,
That I cannot see what color the sky is,
They laugh at me,
And tell me I’m joking.
Because they’ve read my poems,
About the amaranthine evenings,
Lush yellow sunflower fields,
The reds of gulmohar in summer,
And her eyes,
Where I can see,
The stars twinkling from far away galaxies.
The skies are forever dark,
Sunflowers of some colour I haven’t ever seen,
Gulmohar only blooming for the love of summer.
So, when I say the universe is ironical,
I mean it.
Because, they only see the colour of my eyes,
But they don’t see,
What I see,
World in black and white.