I asked the little boy who cannot see

I asked the little boy who cannot see

I asked the little boy who cannot see,
“And what is colour like?”
“Why yellow,” said he,
“Is like the beautiful birds you hear in the great forests of New Zealand,
The pine trees they hide in, they are dark green,
And blue is like the sky as it feels like God is looking upon you,
Pink is as the smell when you are around delicious fruit,
Purple is like tasting fresh berries that I picked from a bush,
White is the the paper on which I write stories,
Yellow is the warmth of fire that burns in the furnace,
And red is the raspberry pie my father makes when he is bored”

Michael