Colours

There once was a man
As I’m sure you well know
A man who emitted the brightest blue glow

He lived in a house
Number 475
All on his own without children or wife

On Sundays you’d see him
As he strolled of a morn
Along the streets lit with flaming argon

But he’d not say a word
Just tipped up his hat
Which was always in navy and never in black

Then one day he reached a house
Not seen before
Such peculiar hues from the windows and door

Not cobalt or teal
Nor indigo also
But some strange sultry sunset of what form he did not know

He stood for a while
Then rapped on the door
And there on the threshold appeared a beauty so pure

That he turned rather pale
A blue like the sea
And stumbled for words to say how she could be

Such a colour as rosebuds
In the first light of day
And nostalgic memories of frolicking play

He looked quite so ill
That she grew rather anxious
And invited him in with a welcome so pious

That he loved her that moment
And could think nothing else
For the light she reflected was Beauty itself.

So soon were they married
Without a moments postponement
Twas aft that they realised of colour’s importance

For he was a blue man
And his wife was quite amber
And many a friend asked him why he did choose her

But regardless of time
The same answer did come
She’s the colour of saffron, she’s my beautiful sun

Regardless of reverence
His friends did persist
‘You’ll be the father of clowns’ they heckled and hissed

Twas true that a child
Borne of yellow and blue
Had never been seen, had never been knew

But what did that matter
What did that mean
Should a child be not loved if they come out as green?

And so it was true
On a warm summer’s morn
A beautiful apple-green baby was born

And how she was loved
Their precious sweet pea
And how she did growan into quite a young beauty

Was then that his friends
Did have to concede
That although an unusual plant they did seed

What grows with dear love
No matter of hue
Will surely be beautiful, worthy and true