I used to think
(Like all near sighted do)
That everything would be
Dull shades of grey
Without you in it.

But now that three seasons
Have run their course
Since I wrote you last,
I see things properly.

I see how I wish
You were a figment
Of my imagination
Instead of staining
Every good memory I have.

It’s not that you made them good,
No no no,
It’s that without you,
They would have been better.