I am Beige.

Smeared across countless walls in infinite shades,

Plastered over fissures and cracks,

I am many things.

Cookies baked just right,

Beams of light just before they fade into the night.

I am wood putty and plasters,

I am the groundwork of buildings and beaches.

I am warm sun-kissed skin before the bitter winter.

I am Beige,

 That feeling that’s hard to describe

The content syrupy sentiment of satisfaction that beckons in sleep

I am the color that is everywhere,

In classrooms, doctors’ offices, police stations, and hospitals,

But unremarkable, for the most part I go unnoticed.

I don’t mind, good friends with bone white, wine burgundy, and auburn tan.

I’m one of many neutral colors,

We go unnoticed, but remain present all the same.

I am Beige.

I’m that good ache the one that let lets you know a hurt is healing.

I am Beige, and though not many remember my name, confused with other labels,

Brown, russet, off-white, coffee.

Those are my friends, and my sisters,

Because I am Beige.