On day one, blue disappeared from our screens;
the glare of a phone no longer hurt your eyes in the dark,
images became impossible to view,
magic left movies.

On day two, it vanished from our bodies;
veins became invisible,
every boy who’d ever been told he had ocean eyes mourned,
bruises were now only green.

On day three, we lost blue ink;
cartographers wept,
star charts were illegible,
manuscripts penned in blue ink ceased to exist.

On day four, blue left nature;
berries went dull and hyacinths died,
peacocks lost their plumage,
their rich feathers going brown.

On day five, the planets lost blue;
Saturn looked lifeless,
Venus turned yellow,
Neptune went black.

On day six, the sea went dark;
bioluminesance was no more,
navigation became a lost art,
prey sat waiting in grey sludge.

On day seven, blue was gone;
the sky had taken its leave,
Earth looked lonely, lost and alone,
all anyone felt was grief.