Colours

Sometimes I sit and wonder -

If people were nothing but colour,

What colour would I be?

And of what clarity?

Would my heart and soul,

Paint my body whole,

In an unsuspecting gold,

Or would the mind intervene?

What colour would the mind appear as?

Red, black or a quartz glass?

Or perhaps different shades would be mine;

But would they stay the same in time?

Would people then stay of the same colour -

Of which they would be true,

Be it orange, purple or blue?

With perhaps a shade or two?

Who in my life would be unsolicited pink,

With whom I could sit and drink?

And then talk about moons and stars,

Perhaps I already know who they are!

Yet clearly I could learn -

The secret of keeping fresh;

From the one in a lush green dress

Should I be aware more, or less?

Oh, and the colour of the wise,

Would not escape panting eyes;

But would they be shiny whites -

Or transparent, visible only at night?

And so I wish I could live in a world,

Where all people are but colours!

So I could dream of a world that I'm in now,

And write about how I'd wish to be there somehow.