A poem I wrote for my Creative Writing Class. I wrote this with professional white collar workers in mind - the rest is up to your own interpretation.
Red is when the sun
hits closed eyes
It is vigour, it is blood that runs
exuberantly through our veins.
It is a pain, a dull ache
Orange is toothpaste.
Invigorating, as it greets you
with zest. Orange is tingling
juice. Orance is fresh.
Yellow is blinding bright
light, as you pull the blinds.
It is the core
of flowers, swaying in
green. Green tickles your ankles. It is a tree,
that whizzes by you as you approach your destination.
It is the paper that you think of every red moment.
Blue is the hand caressing your face
as you step out of your car.
It is cold, like your desk.
Indigo is professionalism
when you're on the phone.
It is plush, it is status. It is
confused. Are you blue or violet?
Violet is the night.
It is the scented oil you burn
as you question your own
purpose. It is a wish, about what
you should've said or done
Red is when the sun
hits closed eyes
It is vigour, it is blood that runs
exuberantly through our veins.
It is a pain, a dull ache
Orange is toothpaste.
Invigorating, as it greets you
with zest. Orange is tingling
juice. Orance is fresh.
Yellow is blinding bright
light, as you pull the blinds.
It is the core
of flowers, swaying in
green. Green tickles your ankles. It is a tree,
that whizzes by you as you approach your destination.
It is the paper that you think of every red moment.
Blue is the hand caressing your face
as you step out of your car.
It is cold, like your desk.
Indigo is professionalism
when you're on the phone.
It is plush, it is status. It is
confused. Are you blue or violet?
Violet is the night.
It is the scented oil you burn
as you question your own
purpose. It is a wish, about what
you should've said or done