I happened to be looking at some old writing assignments from the past and came upon this one. The purpose was to use imagery and colors and see what you could come up with. I had actually written two different stories, if you will, but this one, I feel is a lot better than the other one. Please enjoy.
Until tomorrow.
Colors:
Many times, people look at me and they can’t deny the colors that permeate from my very existence. Royal blues to show the regal me. Creamy whites to show my purity. The lemon-colored shades are a new mixture with goldenrods to make an even prettier me. The ground is filled with several colors - colors that reflect my joy and sadness. From the moment they hit the ground, the colors begin to fade. The once bright crimson slowly darkens to a maroon and then a burgundy until it finally begins to turn a shade of raw umber and then becomes black with death. The colors are my life. So many colors making up one thing. These colors, and many more, make up my soul. They make me a garden.
The multi-colored roses, with blushes, auburns, pomegranate and indigos fill one whole side of me. The lilies of pearl white, with their stems of jade, take the other side of the garden. Interspersed throughout are flowers of many different kinds, shapes, sizes and colors. The bamboo that is jungle green, with small khaki circles. The birds of paradise with the bright orange beaks and charcoal eyes. And the many hydrangea plants, with their own variety, blue like the sky, lavender, and the lightest of green, like moss.
Myself, the garden, filled with colors of happiness and yet, filled with death as well. Too much sun, I begin to wither and become dark. Too much water and my colors begin to bleed.
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