Roses are not red;
They are pink like a sunset
Gold like a star
Maroon like our blood
And white like our dreams
Violets are not blue;
They are purple like royalty
Pink like luxury
Cerulean like the sky above
And all three when spring has sprung
Poems are not perfect;
It is not made out of thin air;
They are painted like our hearts
And crafted with care
Poetry is like a color
It is never too complicated to understand
But always too simple to describe
With only one word
