Poetry: "Violet Fission"

Purple is for the past,

Or so they always told me,

Nostalgia overwhelming

The sense of present feeling;

I never saw eye to eye,

Never remembered,

Never just for purple;

A synesthetic connection,

Makes the memory more,

Than slave to single wavelengths.

A myriad of colors,

Swirl around my past,

The soft brown of smiling eyes,

The sharp blue of morning skies,

Contrasting white clouds,

Floating on wind’s sighs,

A blending chaos tricking vision,

Impressions of a violet fission,

Colors dividing

At memory’s incision,

A thousand colors for each moment,

For a thousand recollections;

Voices transformed

Into rainbow spectra,

Echo in my eyesight,

As I soak in the memory

Shining in the chromatic light.