Writing Camp

The colors don’t sit still here.

They shift from foot to foot,

they pace.

They move in ceilings and basements

swallowing us into a world where colors

are more than colors

white has eyes that stare right out at you

and black is a hand you can hold.

The colors here, they stroll –

they go on walks in the moonlight

and you never see the same shade twice.

Each color is a stranger to your eye

who will never become familiar enough

to be a friend.

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9 thoughts on “Writing Camp

      1. Hmmm… Perhaps you COULD paint to save your life. What a poetic thought this inspires. A young woman held hostage and only kept alive as long as she continues to paint a picture every day. A thousand and one dancing colors. I love touching base with you. There’s always something new to bounce ideas off of. ๐Ÿ™‚
        Alice

  1. this comes, of course,
    as little surprise, as,
    being color-blind, I
    am, perhaps, more
    suspicious of colors
    than most…

    โ€œColors blind the eye
    Sounds deafen the ear.
    Flavors numb the taste.
    Thoughts weaken the mind.
    Desires wither the heart.โ€
    –Lao Tzu

    1. You should be suspicious of colors! Sneaky little things. Always morphing into something else – you can never trust them.

      I love that. That struck a cord with me. Thanks for sharing ๐Ÿ™‚

Thoughts? I love those.

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