The Color Black
I ask him his favorite color.
Mine is blue.
He tells me, "Black."
I must have looked disconcerted,
Because he hastens to explain-
Not for a morbid reason...
He just likes the color.
I considered.
Black is
All the sharp and flat piano keys
It's the soft darkness you savor
Before subjecting yourself to
The harsh brightness of morning
It's the color of a kiss
Because you always close your eyes
It's my favorite dress, or printed words, or
The clean line of an brushstroke on canvas
Black is a silhouette against a sunset
Or the deepened shadows before the dawn
It's a night sky or a raven's wing
The pureness of a pool of ink
It's a storm cloud rolling in
As the wind holds its breath
Before shattering the sky
Into a thousand pieces
Edged in light
It's the deepness of the sea
At midnight
Black is the soft curls of his hair.
Black is his eyes, which shine...
I decide black
Is one of my favorite colors too.
Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment