Entropy

I thought,
And you brought,
Me to my afterthought,
That there's naught,
Only the following.

Yet I think I can measure the degree of my happiness,
From the length of my hair,
Which I'd chop off every few weeks just make myself never fit to the concept of time,
And thus February would still feel like May,
But with an ungodly difference in temperatures,
Less blooms of gulmohar,
And I'm wrong,
I was wrong to compare my happiness,
To the receding lengths of my dying plants.

Regardless,
I followed
The shadow
Colored
Blue, blue, blue.