Sing to me, oh sunrise.
Let me hear your sweet, sensual song.
Mix the melodies of orange and purple with the bass notes of blue and the trebble of red. And in the powerful opraic voice of the coming day...the timid words of yellow will come through.
Shy. Quiet.
Stretch your eyes to listen. Open your ears to see.
The dew on the green leaves rises as the trees begin to shake. The low, steady hum of the wind stirring awake.
Look, child. Look! Open your ears and look!
Yellow grows bolder now, her confidence growing with chirps and birdsongs. Her notes rising sweetly to join the orchestra of colors. Their harmony for a single moment...magic.
Purple trembles with melody, blue holds steady and strong. Orange roars afire while yellow takes full control. Sing yellow, sing! Her performance is poweful, like an orgasm rising from within your soul.
Earth stands and cheers. "Encore! Encore!" scream the mountains and the sea.
The conductor sun takes a proud bow, and yellow gives a shy curtesy.
"She'll be here all day," says the sun, "for yellow is the star of the show. But I'm afraid the rest of the colors only sing twice a day before they must go."
So sing, yellow. Sing. Let us hear the sensual sunrise song in your radiant tones.
So that life may finally get the chance to live.
YOU ARE READING
The Subtle Taste of Midnight
RandomMidnight. The Witching Hour. The time when dreams come a-calling, whether or not you're asleep. TSTM is a collection of poems, short stories, musings, night owl rants, and whatever bullshit my sleep-deprived mind can cobble together before the sun r...
