I loved the one he thought I couldn’t see,
That lied-about and laughed-at little boy;
Strong-beating heart, though beaten black and blue.
He told me once that sky was never blue.
Silver or grey, he said, that beaten boy.
Don’t let your mind decide, paint what you see.
He froze me cold as charity, that boy,
Faded me grey; azure made merely blue;
Wrought me a jail with bars I did not see.