The technicolour phase

I am the red in the rose, the flowers on the blankets on your bedroom floor

And I am the gray in the ghost, that hides with your clothes behind your closet door

I am the green in the grass that bends back from underneath your feet

And I am the blue in your back-alley view where the horizon and the rooftops meet

I am the black in the book, the letters on the pages that you memorize

And I am the orange in the overcast, a color that you visualize

I am the white in the walls that soak up all the sound when you cannot sleep

And I am the peach in the starfish on the beachthat wish the harbor wasn’t quite so deep...