Can you see the colors in my words?
My fingers smudging luminous schemes
across the paper,
drawn shades of red adorning passion
escaping ruby lips and captured in stanzas
to sing in nights when dreams
are not enough.
Painted blue of oceans and skies
soothing my restless heart
lost in memories of bluest eyes
where I swam in deepest waters.
Luscious valleys under a yellow sun
basting life on endless expressions
suffocating my need to depart
this flesh I carefully tender.
But words in black for love lost
still elegant in my quiet surrender
to the passing of things
while happiness I carelessly tossed
in shades or orange
across a fascination that life brings
at the end of my days,
where I’m learning to embellish
the strange contour of unfamiliar words
with the color of life arrays
before I perish.
Can you see the color in my words?
“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds