Something I wrote for some reason

The sky is blue.

It is nice.

It looks nice and it is blue.

The trees are green. 

And they are too.

They are nice and they aren't blue. 

The grass smells nice.

The flowers smell sweet 

The fragrance isn't the same but I still like think they're lovely.

Just as you and I, my friends.

Beautiful in our own way, as they call it.

Maybe that uniqueness is what makes us nice?

Or maybe it's something beyond my comprehension.