Sherbet Senses

I do have blues that roll eerily familiar to summer skies and ocean views.

Pretty on the glass screen but ever raging under all the plates and screws.

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My reds run ravishing like freed merlots, bloody sangrias, or tomato soup engulfing basil shreds.

Most exciting are the highs, to live most days as fleeting lies but still content in eluding the dead.

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In black I go silent, definitive to the purpose.

As brown I illustrate resilience, immune to the circus.

Orange then cream, ecstatic or mean.

I purple and yellow too; for fantasies and dreams.

I hope in aqua, sleep in white, and sulk in wide maroon.

Aqua for my fresh, gold describes my flesh and lavender is my tune.

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When I care I'm pink, yet when I love I'm gray.

I see in chromes and bronzes, but slates, silvers and beiges frame the day.

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A whole melting palette that hues how I orbit, talk, think and speak.

Sherbet my sensory perception; the green over here is unique.

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