It was a sweater made for two. The outside pink,
the inside blue.

He often wore the blue when she used to be in his arms,
in their balcony near the snow clad mountains,
the two of them having tea, talking love and
dreaming about the future.

Now he is gone, and she sits alone, having tea and
remembering his love; the pink on the outside and the
blue inside, touching her like he used to.