Synesthete
Even in the blackest night, I have my colors. As long as I have words, I have my colors.
A is of a deepest red, bordering on maroon.
B plays hurricane, storm grey slate, and murky blue.
C is citrus, think of an unripened orange.
D captures ocean dark, navy with silver and shifting grey.
E is grass green bright, with sunlight shining through.
F is olive, plain and pure, with glints of morning dew.
G is grey-blue, like a just-after-sunset sky.
H is wet pavement, somehow the brightest of them all.
I is pale, streaking yellow and lime, opalescent.
J comes with memories, tawny and spices and caramel, recalling a theater stage.
K is fir green, mountain forest, bright and lively.
L is butter, smooth and cream, sleep-soft, quiet dream.
M is magenta, always will be, with red blue and green mixing to a sheen.
N is firetruck, clear and sharp, and firework bold.
O is almost colorless, with the palest of yellows and the palest of greens.
P is the color of freshly baked bread, rich and honey and wood.
Q is snow and orchids and a dusting of green and gold.
R belongs to royalty, vivid purple, deepest violet.
S is mint and cilantro, light and brass and kind.
T declares deserts, and Jupiter's bands.
U is tender, all flour and orange zest.
V is lavender sprigs, gentle galaxy.
W is strict indigo, washing soft like rainclouds.
X is seaweed, murky green brushed with pitch.
Y cries sunset, melting down into deep orange.
Z is dripping red, deepest secret scarlet.
I have my colors always, even in the blackest night.
As long as I have words
I have my colors.