A Cold Victory Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

I said the sky was blue,
You said it was gray.
We argued through the afternoon,
We both had much to say.

The clock ticked on the wall,
The sun began to set.
You stubbornly walked out the door,
Unwilling to forget.

I checked outside again,
The clouds had rolled away.
The sky was clear, the sky was blue,
And I was right, my way.

I won the little fight,
But you were nowhere near.
The room was quiet and so cold,
My victory felt so queer.

You left without a word,
Over a shade of blue.
I proved my point, but in the end,
I'm only missing you.

So what is being right,
When winning makes you sad?
It is the smallest foolish things
That drives us quite half-mad.

I raised a cup of tea,
And toasted to the wall.
A tiny, silly celebration,
For nothing much at all.