Colours by Fiona Hodgkinson

you spilled on my dress.
I used to stay up late dreaming,
hoping my time would come.
But isn’t it so funny
to think
how little we knew about life’s design.
White was the colour of your shirt
when I spilt beer at the party.
You never used to notice me,
Always laughing and bright.
But isn’t it so crazy
to know
how our lives were about to divert.
Gold was the colour of the room
when the confetti flew.
We never told a soul,
about spilt beer and wine
But isn’t it so stupid
to find
how love made us do something marvellous.