Someone wrote once

That I could never forget your name

But with your magenta on my hands

The sound had lost its way

And fell ill to the oblivion of your blame

A gray canvas was before me

Waiting for my feet to command

And from then on be lonely no more

Maybe that someone

Never took notice of looking twice

Of looking back

And assume fowers were still the same color

That the sun was bright

And the sky was high

And she was there with him.