Color and sound are far too similar,
They never come without the other.
Instruments, voices, names, notes.
Concerts are entire light shows.
The lime of horns, the flash of drums and whistles,
Entire fireworks shows all at once.
I have always hated fireworks shows.
Voices are strong too.
In noisy corridors where everyone yells, I see brown.
Mud or dried blood color clutters my mind.
I call it ‘brown noise’.
Nobody else understands.
I don’t blame them.
And then there's you.
A baby blue name, a rosy coral voice.
Others have names of sharp yellow or brooding teal.
It differs.