Malcolm Wheatman - Paintbox

Now the world is almost dark
You ask what colour are your eyes? ...
The colour of the night I see reflected there,
Tinged with hues of sorrow and of joy;
The glints of rainbowed thoughts and, deeper,
Palettes of emotion, unfilled space,
Grey scales that trace the trails of past endeavour,
Down to velvet-black behind your star-strewn dreams.

The tints of time inch forward in their circle,
Uncurtaining emotion as they pass;
Purple thunder echoes blue, and far away within,
The world soon gathers brightness from your gaze,
Becoming that first light we call the dawn.
It spreads across a feather-soft, responding landscape
Where all the earthly colours seem as white
Confronted by the chrominance of Love.

Malcolm Wheatman

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