How golden is the sunlight,

how green can be these hills?

In an absence of those colors here,

one wanders without thrills.

To live a thousand lifetimes,

without a single beam;

sunlight not reflecting so,

upon the clear, blue stream.

A world without such beauty,

is no world to which I’d roam;

for colorless is my domain,

my hearth, my mind, my home.

But onerous as it might be,

I’d gladly stay a while;

if dappled sunlight made me see,

your dazzling wondrous smile.

Deprived of natures color,

I cannot appreciate;

the way the soft red glows there,

upon that auburn pate.

For color is my kryptonite,

my ever weakening bane;

and in this world of black and white,

I fear I am insane.