“Ceci est la couleur de mes rêves”

Or,

“This is the color of my dreams.”

 

Joan Miró’s dreams were blue

In 1925

Blue, rich, encompassing

And beautiful.

 

And my dreams

In 2016

They began and ended

With you

 

Only in different shades.

 

The beginning:

Yellow

 

Like that of the

Warm happy life-giving Sun

Found most often

In children’s coloring books.

 

Simple,

Straightforward.

 

Fitting enough

For all the light

And innocent childlike wonder

You make me see the world.

 

The end:

Yellow

 

Like that of the

Warm happy life-giving Sun

When after more than two decades,

I suddenly realized

 

I am queer

And I am in love with you.

 

Well then.

 

Less simple,

Less straight,

Forward.

 

Fitting enough,

I would think

Because isn’t that life

After all?

 

“Ceci est la couleur de mes rêves”

Or,

“This is the color of my dreams.”

 

My dreams were yellow

In 2016

 

Your nebulous, myriad yellows

That reflected to me all the light that I could see

And all the light that I could not.  

 

Yellow.

 

Maybe you were the same shade to me

All along.

 

“Ceci est la couleur de mes rêves”

Or,

 

“Ceci is the color of my dreams,”

Beautiful

Beyond any singing of her.