Kaleidoscope


When I love my lover,
I see love is red, like a scarlet flower, a Rhododendron or an English Rose in blush,
or the magenta cheeked parrot in a tropical bloom.
A hot pink mix, that enfolds us both in a crimson rush.

When I laugh with my love,
I see love is orange, a bright zesty shade full of fun and spark.
It connects us both with a citrus fizz.
A sweet tangy moment with a bite that's sharp.

When I wake each day with my love,
I see love is yellow, like the moon, or the Evening Primrose that blooms in June,
to ignite the summer flame for the prairie flowers to begin.
My love has a golden beam that carries me along,
it adds a turmeric spice as the day meets the dawn.

When I am uncertain of my love,
I see love is green,
in the way of an ivy,
the creeping jealousy, entwines my heart.
Like a plant in the deep emerald forest,
my soul is rooted in the remotest part.
My mind is enveloped by aquamarine, I am like a leaf,
that the autumn season tears apart.

When I am away from my love,
I see love is blue,
a mournful colour, overwhelming in hue.
An azure feeling I have when I am alone and subdued.
Like a lazuli icicle afloat in the deep Arctic sea.
And then there is the indigo of the bluebell in spring,
that unfolds a misty promise of things to come.

When I fight with my love,
I see love is black.
A dark anger that looms between us both.
It is filled with thunder, rain and lightening claps.
An omen is exposed, we are sullen and morose.
The day is blotted out from our clouded sight,
light turns into coal, a lunar-less pitch night.


When I look to the eyes of my love,
I see love is white, like ermine, or a winter snowdrop, pearl and serene.
Like a clear morning light,
Like the dew that hangs on the waxen skein,
of a taut wispy web,
a silken sacrifice, an organic weave, from a natural being.
So pure, saturated, intense, a vividly simple thing.

When I imagine losing my love,
I see love is grey, the colour that life would become.
I'd be bereft, all colour would be gone.
I would deaden into a dulled shell,
like the smokey memory after a heath-land burn,
all colours are destroyed as the earth turns to dust,
my leaden spirit empties into a void of loss.

When I think of my love,
I see love is a kaleidoscope, viewed.
With each twist it encompasses a different mood.
An ambience of shades, white, red, orange, yellow, green, blue.
And all the combinations and mixes in between too,
so many to experience, a permeation I consume.

What colour is your love to you?