Of purple skies and orange flamingos

Of purple skies and orange flamingos

The sky is blue,

the earth so brown

White are the clouds 

or a black or a grey sometimes too.

The grass is green or not so green

and milky white would be the vanilla ice cream.

Now if we paint every little thing

the way as they are seen,

they might look nice

and also oh so real.

But, and just one big but,

where would the imagination be?

The flights of fancy that my mind would take,

the plunge in the depths of oceans it would make,

the swim in the ether of the outer spaces,

and the crawl in the muddy depths of earth,

all of this;

and out comes my mind with a different place.

Where a leaf could be as blue as it can be,

and the clouds take on a fiery red;

pink are the waters that fall from a height

giving the white rocks a pinky shine.

My mind could be made of

purple skies and orange flamingos

and what a world that would make on a paper

each one different than the other

making me go on one hell of a roller coaster

the ride that would be fun,

that would be a different,

every single turn of the paper.