Colour Blind

I learnt that you were colour blind
and was aghast you saw a world
in black and white
while mine was technicoloured.

Later I learnt
that only red was missing,
or partly so.
You failed, at twenty paces, to detect
the berries on a holly.
Traffic lights misled.
Orange you saw more yellow,
purple — bluer,
brown, more grey.
We argued earnestly at sunset
whether the clouds were amethyst.

Only after a lifetime together
did I learn, not only colour,
but every other sense can be at odds
and lovers still be lovers.