Orange

Everyday. All I see everyday.

Is the one shade, of solemn grey.

Sometimes I spot blacks and whites,

But it’s all the same, like flying kites.

Up up up, in the air they go

Then they come down, if the wind doesn’t blow

The only thing that’s hopeful in this displacement

Is the color, orange.

Orange. I was eight when I saw it in sight.

It looked like a warm breeze, in the summer night

It was faint, like a small tint,

But it was hopeful, like the sun’s glint.

I told my mother, she said it was a sign

A sign of my health, future, and hope of mine

It became my favorite color, better than grey

I loved it, if not wore it everyday.

It gleamed like a ripe fruit

Like a rich person’s, golden loot

I loved every shade of it

Like the sun’s perfect split.

Orange. It inspired me.

I felt a cheerful glee

Now maybe, just maybe, I will be able to spot

Another wave of joy, preferably purple I ought.