If Colors Had Voices

Red spoke first—

A bold, booming voice, laced with fire and fury.

"I am the pulse of passion, the song of war,

The first cry of a newborn, the last drop of a martyr."

Blue sighed, cool and measured,

A voice like the hush of the ocean at dawn.

"I am the whisper of sky after the storm,

The quiet ache of longing, the depth of thought."

Green chuckled, rolling like leaves in the wind.

"I am the dance of forests, the kiss of spring,

The hum of life in every hidden root,

The healer of wounds unseen."

Yellow hummed in laughter, golden and bright.

"I am the melody of childhood summers,

The glow of lanterns guiding the lost,

The spark that ignites a thousand tomorrows."

Purple draped itself in velvet tones.

"I am the echo of forgotten royalty,

The shade of mystery behind closed doors,

The weight of secrets held too long."

Black lingered, low and knowing.

"I am the silence before the storm,

The ink of stories yet to be written,

The void that cradles the stars."

White spoke last, soft as snowfall.

"I am the canvas of endless possibility,

The lull between the tides of color,

The space where beginnings bloom."

Then came Gray, tired and distant,

"And I am the space between all of you.

The hesitation before a choice,

The quiet weight of indecision,

The peace in knowing that not everything

Must be one or the other."

And so the colors spoke,

Arguing, laughing, whispering into the wind,

Until dusk came and stole their voices—

And painted the sky with them all.