COLOURS OF LOVE

If only love was pure and WHITE
Not like the sun, just bright
With power to squirt true delight.
Or like paper on which to write
Experiences of harrowing fright
And accounts of numbing sleight.
But Love could be dark as night
So dark it can blur the sight
Serves of conjugal bliss she blights
Without care nor being contrite.
Love may be noble but full of spite.

Could Love then be simply BLUE?
Is it really sincere; can she be true?
Can peace from her enterprise accrue?
Will she weak and spent souls renew?
Love can spread like contagious flu
In her captors a sense of unity imbue
They may be more; they may be two
But bonded as with emotional glue
And draped in blazoning hue.
If then Love is Blue I say "Adieu!"

Consider Love as sparkling RED
Which pertains to life and dead
It is Nirvana in parts but also of dread
Like when she is or isn't well fed.
If love is just RED one needs be afraid
Or pretend to be dim-witted instead
What about the tears they may shed
From the hearts that they shred?
Yet Love is not just tea and bread
It requires courage to push ahead.

Maybe Love is the PURPLE
Cunning as the good old turtle
Making the head spin and bubble
Sometimes, outrightly befuddle
From gains and pains that they hurtle.
It is a major cause for all struggles
One cannot but be a bit of a ruffle
Despite the hugs, kisses and cuddles.
Love incessantly invites scuffles
So one must always his girdle buckle.

Maybe Love should have been BROWN
For if you must not be seen as a clown
Once you remove the wedding gown
Pertinent you put firm feet on ground
Add some authority to your sound
That wherever you both are found
Be you away or you're around
From sun up till sun down
Your control shall know no bounds
Then you will surely wear the crown.