No One Color To Choose

When I was twelve my favorite color was

Pink.

Then I didn’t dwell

Much about supposed

Butterflies.

“Who do you like?” Giggling,

Girls whispered.

Scanning the room I

Picked a boy whose

Name was Zach,

And said he was the one.

When I was sixteen my favorite color was

Blue.

There was someone

With troubled eyes.

Fighting for him with

Words, both

Relishing and loathing

Our struggle for

Happiness

And the fight against

Injustice.

When I was twenty-four my favorite color was

Maroon.

I walked with a girl in

The dark near a train. Though

I kissed her, finding at last

Butterflies,

I longed to keep my freedom.

I reckon it good then

Just as I’d said

Her happiness laid in

The palette of another.

When I was twenty-seven my favorite color was

Yellow.

He had a wife and we

Blended all together, were

Separate hues in triadic

Harmony

An unorthodox scheme, but

Then again, if

Asked my favorite

Color, I

Have no one answer to give.