I cannot pick a color I love more Each is thrilling and some seem the breath of life to all the rest I loved my crayons They became my escape from misery the contrast to any given day at school
Any excuse to use them all or just one to avoid that lowest reading group the monstrosities of math If I couldn't sing it there were no letters in the alphabet I could not tell you A from Z
But you see-- That day was purple! That was all that mattered I loved its richness and its depth its mystery its royalty King Midas would have liked it, I was sure almost a religion Vestments of the priest in the times of expectation It is the explanation for
the last of day
As a five-year-old I drew my love for purple Passionate and outside all the lines-- off onto the desk I was so proud! But--
Miss Platt, so horrified asked,
What is it I was trying to do?
I didn't know....
I was suddenly ashamed and frightened too
This may have been the first time I actually touched down in reality. Been trying to take off again ever since.
The religious times of expectation were Advent for Christmas and Lent for Easter.