Like Dorothy in Kansas

This I will remember
as the summer of no sun.
Dreary, endless days
interrupted by torrential rain.
      She walks in my memory
      wearing red flipflops
      and shining hazel eyes.
Here, though, everything is dim.
A gray, colorless spring
after months of white, colorless winter.
I wake and go through the motions
automatic to the last
jeans, coffee, cigarette
car, drive, cigarette
work, coffee, cigarette
all in the same bland hue.
      She sings in my memory
      and she thinks no one is watching
      her red, pouted mouth.
Here, though, everything is quiet.
Even the birds have stopped caring.
I ache for color, for life
but I go through the motions
automatic to the last
email, coffee, cigarette
car, drive, cigarette
home, tv, cigarette
all in the same bland key.
      She moves in my memory
      with her lithe form
      and all the shades of her laughter.
Here, though, everything is muted.
I dream in color but live without.
This I will remember
as the summer of no sun.