I love the tinge of red when the sun sets, the red dahlias and, odd as it may sound, I love the red of blood - it keeps me alive.
I love the orange leaves in fall, endless orange deserts and the orange of ocean creatures - all vibrant and full of life.
I love the yellow of the sunflowers, of the bees and of sunlight - a color to be seen and always noticed.
I love green apples, the green of trees and of grass - green is a breath of fresh air.
I love the blue of the sky and the deep blue of the ocean - it is strong and, though not always predictable in its behavior, it is always there.
I love the purple of the galaxy and how the night sky takes on a purple hue when filled with lighting - it is mysterious and full of power.
I love all the colors in between.
But lately I’ve been living life in grey. Not the grey of a cloud in a storm, not the grey of the moon nor the grey of a wolf.
They grey of ash - devoid of life. I am drained of my color.











