I see things in black and white, he says.
He means he sees them plainly with a will
proudly to describe the truth in prose
and strip away the fantasy and frill.
Red rose of passion, yellow rose of peace,
the flaming orange and soft violet
stir feelings as they feast the eyes and nose,
while the associations they create,
the dreams and poems, fill the memory.
Life consists of more than gradgrind facts
and isn’t monochrome but colourful.
Each person with each other interacts.
To miss, dismiss, all that fails miserably,
myopically, to apprehend the whole.