Synesthesia

I see the color of the sounds

As the baton mutters soft gloomy tones

My mind paints a picture of blues and greys

Colors blending and creating a scene

Rain washing away the dust on the road

 

I see the color of the sounds

As the drum beats crescendo

My mind paints a picture of swirling blacks and piercing white light

Colors blending and creating a scene

Lightening striking the midnight sky

 

I see the color of the sounds

As the trumpets erupt into a dissonant roar

My mind paints a picture of flashing yellow light

Colors blending and creating a scene

Sirens warning of incoming danger

 

I see the color of the sounds

As the symphony fills the hall with crashing waves of harmonious destruction

My mind paints a picture of hues spewing from all directions

Colors blending and creating a scene

Mass chaos unraveling an innocent town

 

I see the color of the sounds

As the conductor signals for delicacy; a single flautist eases its way through the dark textures

My mind paints a picture of each and every dye

Colors blending and creating a scene

And a rainbow brings hope to an otherwise unhopeful world

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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