Just Purple

Well, I haven't been doing a very good job at sticking to the bi-monthly blog post resolution - so here's an old poem that will hopefully make up for it:

Just Purple

As far as hues are concerned she is purple.

No scent or sound,

No texture or taste,

Just a blotch of color in a rainbow of shades.

Beautiful of course, but never something more –

Never something different.

Just purple.

Naturally, she can be altered –

Paler, darker, brighter, deeper.

She can take the form of a beautiful butterfly

Sailing smoothly through still air,

Or a lazy, land-locked hippo.

Even the syllables of her name can be changed –

Lilac, violet, lavender,

Or ‘Lila’ by German tongue.

But the roots of her purpose are never destroyed.

Still, she is only purple.

Just another color in an endless heaven of hues,

Just a single flower in a rainbow garden,

She is a song for the eyes, but otherwise useless –

Until dark.

Only then, when a blanket of black eerily covers the colors,

Is she more than just a pigment –

More than just purple.

Somehow different than before, she is needed now –

Wanted.

Loved.

But still, she remains unchanged –

The same as what she always was,

She is purple.

Just Purple.