I am the color brown.
Brown as the mud on my hands.
Brown as a churning dirty spring river.
Brown as the fur of a diminutive mouse.
No, I am not quite brown.
Perhaps I am the color black.
Black as cooled lava flows.
Black as the starless night sky.
Black as his eyes dilated in passion.
No, I am not quite black.
Perhaps I am the color red.
Red as deep late sunset.
Red as molten voracious nights.
Red as the blood coursing thru my veins.
No, I am not quite red.
Perhaps I am the color yellow.
Yellow as a dandelion’s delicate petals.
Yellow as the sun reflecting off the sea.
Yellow as his delighted laughter in me.
No, I am not quite yellow.
Perhaps I am the color grey.
Grey as the rain in October.
Grey as the bark of my favorite tree.
Grey as the remaining ash in a fire pit.
Yes. I am certainly grey.
with him, I’m bursting forth in color:
Crimson as an opening rose.
Peach as a flickering candle flame.
Gold as a sunrise watched within his arms.
Emerald as fields of summer wheat.
Teal as a still lake’s surface.
Violet as the sky at twilight.
White as the sun shining through a cloud.
Yes. He makes grey forgotten.
©️tara caribou – 2018