So I've tasted colours noone else has ever tasted,
They've stunned my senses and numbed my tongue,
I was afraid I could taste no more.
But these flowers were plucked out for me,
These are strange blossomings-but blossomings indeed
They blossom with ease-probing, silent and receptive.
My plate may be bland but it is not empty,
My canvas may be blank but it is not dirty.
These are strange colours, but I'd paint regardless..