Synesthete

Even in the blackest night, I have my colors. As long as I have words, I have my colors.

A is of a deepest red, bordering on maroon.

B plays hurricane, storm grey slate, and murky blue.

C is citrus, think of an unripened orange.

D captures ocean dark, navy with silver and shifting grey.

E is grass green bright, with sunlight shining through.

F is olive, plain and pure, with glints of morning dew.

G is grey-blue, like a just-after-sunset sky.

H is wet pavement, somehow the brightest of them all.

I is pale, streaking yellow and lime, opalescent.

J comes with memories, tawny and spices and caramel, recalling a theater stage.

K is fir green, mountain forest, bright and lively.

L is butter, smooth and cream, sleep-soft, quiet dream.

M is magenta, always will be, with red blue and green mixing to a sheen.

N is firetruck, clear and sharp, and firework bold.

O is almost colorless, with the palest of yellows and the palest of greens.

P is the color of freshly baked bread, rich and honey and wood.

Q is snow and orchids and a dusting of green and gold.

R belongs to royalty, vivid purple, deepest violet.

S is mint and cilantro, light and brass and kind.

T declares deserts, and Jupiter's bands.

U is tender, all flour and orange zest.

V is lavender sprigs, gentle galaxy.

W is strict indigo, washing soft like rainclouds.

X is seaweed, murky green brushed with pitch.

Y cries sunset, melting down into deep orange.

Z is dripping red, deepest secret scarlet.

I have my colors always, even in the blackest night.

As long as I have words

I have my colors.