The palette of life

O’ the palette of life,

Is often fraught with strife

When we’re all tarred with the same brush,

The likes I’ve seen could almost make a grown man blush,

When I was born they painted me pink,

Pink clothes, pink room, pink bed,

But try as they might - not pink in the head;

The colour leeched out of me, bleeding grey quiet ink for none to see,

By the time it came to ship me away

My heart was sullen grey

Beating faint purple hues,

Though none could see the blues

Bright smile on my face,

The reality left no trace,

Cheeks painted pink

And a backpack full of ink

But then I met you...

...cerulean blue,

You touched my hand,

Pressed your fingers gently on my face ... as if you could understand,

And slowly but surely,

Day by day,

The ink began to wear away

Pink to purple,

Then purple to baby blue ...

All because I found myself in you.