Bright yellow first

Daffodils on the longest summer day

In the perfect sunny afternoon

Lemons bought from the local grocer

The ones that smell more like candy than fruit

Bananas bought at just the right moment

Just after all their greenness is gone

A little darker then;

Ripe corn on the stocks in the garden

Just emerging, golden yellow in August

Wheat in a breeze, bending over

Shimmering in dark yellow ripeness

Pages of old, old books that say something important

They hold the musty scent that can’t be disliked

Orange emerges triumphant

Cantaloupe when you manage to cut it at the right time

It’s orange sweetness tastes exactly like a perfect kiss

Fresh mango that reminds you of exotic adventures

Whether you have actually gone or not

Peaches plucked, perfect.

Ripe, their orange transitioning darker, gradient

Darker burning orange

Autumn leaves just ready to fall

So you can rake them up just to jump in

The campfire built by you to know you could do it

Not simply for warmth but for the enjoyment of flame

Monarch wings, a bright spot in the bluest sky

And something about creature and color say there’s something to fly to

Burning bright red now

A robin’s breast, soft and delicate and warm

Life surrounds and surprises even when you’re not looking

Hot peppers that you ate on a dare

Your burning mouth and tearing eyes hardly affect your triumph

The color of her dress as you dip her on the dance floor

Whether you let her fall means everything in the world

Deep desirous red

Wedding roses, a sharp contrasting red

Next to a white that shows in our differences we are made stronger

Ripe cherries, juicy and dark red, and beautiful

The perfect sweetness is bred from patience as much as nature

A heart, ecstatically pumping as you see just the right person

Walking towards you, to talk to you

Nearing purple,

The grapes passed when walking somewhere more important

But you can’t help but appreciate the wet fruity smell

Violets that grow on a forgotten grave, now crumbling

Somehow it feels like it matters that they’re there

Fairy dust seems to feel real when you look at the sky

And see everything transformed into a cool purple

Darkening now

Cornflower blue, like the irises of his perfect eyes

They seem to hold so much feeling, though it may not be for you

Storm clouds swirling, a dark blue-gray

Somehow the rain manages to come just when you feel blue enough to enjoy it

Swelling oceans toss and turn revealing nothing

But as you watch the hypnotizing motion, suddenly you know

Nighttime now

A swarm of crows overtakes the sky, coating the light

But there’s something so beautiful about the way they fly

It’s hard to really miss it

The sky grows onyx, like the pupils of the person

Who never knew what they taught you about yourself

Or how much they mattered

The sun moves out of the way

But not without a dramatic exit.


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