The Color Of A Soul

My soul
Is not the silver-white
Of moonlight on snow
Or the deep, vibrant red
Of blood and power.
It is not the soft orange
Of an early sunrise
Nor the brilliant gold
Of autumn leaves
It isn’t pink, or green,
Or turquoise, or any
Of the bright colors
I adore.
No.
My soul is inky indigo
Like crisp new jeans
Like deep ocean water
Like the spaces between stars
On a cloudless night.
I wonder what that says
About me.

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2 thoughts on “The Color Of A Soul

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