The mind wonders
O colors, were you not colors
What colors would colors be?


The heart answers
Colors would be non but that
Of the nymph’s touch
Utterly trekking to my in-depth core.

Colors would be,
Breathtakingly conspicuous lips
Such with likeness of a ripe fruit.

Colors would be,
A thousand angels in her eyes
Playing my drum in loud melodies.

Colors would be,
listening to songs of her voice
For no one ever sings
If not for her tongue that plays like violin.

But yet to me, were colors not to be colors
The touches that crumble my core,
The lips that feedeth my fire,
The eyes that pounds my deeps,
The sweet tongues that plays taming flutes of the past,
Why not be the colour

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