No Colour

Soft is the petal of a rose.
Wet is the dew on it’s head
Sweet is the fragrance of a flowers scent.
Loud are the cries from an infant.
What colours adorn these things?
What beauty do I miss?
The petal is soft under my touch,
almost velvet in suggestion.
My teardrops taste salty,
as they run my cheek.
Waves of fragrances sweep through the air,
as their perfume surrounds me.
Strange cries I hear in morning hours,
awake me from a sleepy head.
You take all this for granted,
what I miss as I pass this way.
You see what I can’t imagine,
now and everyday.
I walk with a white stick,
as I travel on my way.
You walk with eyes wide open,
still missing everything I say.
No colours adorn my world,
nothing is what my eyes see.
But, can you describe a colour?
So a blind man can see.

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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