I love colour.
Lots of colour.
Reds that drip rich and round
like drops of blood or plush
like the velvet linings of wooden
boxes filled with love and
secrets. Blue like the soft Chinook
arch promise, the pool of indigo ink
in the sky that thins royally
around the hard white stars, or
turquoise – jealous and sad
in eqal parts – green and blue.
Yellow, the tart lemony show off
and her sister, orange, older and wiser
and less prone to manic happiness.
Green, like a Gaian Goddess, complex
with shades and depths beyond profound,
from giggling sprouts of tender spring
to ancient bough breathing eternal shade.
Purple, oh, purple, colour of kings, that
blooms in bruises and other hidden places.
How the violets love to bathe in your glory.
I will have colour.