The Color of Music

"This song is very purple,"

I exclaimed in joy.

Only, Mom stared back

With two cerulean eyes--

as if I sprouted a third:

"Don't tell anyone else,

they won't understand."

The sounds bubbled out of her mouth,

Effervescent and gold.

That gold hue chimed

Every time

I pondered those amethyst notes.

Rain dribbled months later,

As it does in California--

Never pouring--

Only trickling

From slate clouds.

Rolling out rusty smog

Settled in from arid summer.

The song played once more,

As celeste sparks popped

From the rain drops

Along the hood of the car.

I mentioned again to my mother

The gossamer veil.

"People aren't going to understand,"

She retorted, however

"Synesthesia" speared out of my brother's mouth;

Sharp, crimson lines cutting through the cold.

As the rain rolled out the blanket of smog,

My brother's words rolled out my own.

In color, I live.

In sounds, I see.

From saffron strokes

To lime green notes,

Each is its own.

How blessed I am to see such beauty;

To see the colors you live.

To share this gift

I create with the colors,

Breath in the colors,

Paint out the notes.

Live, and see in the colors--

The ones coming out of your throat.