Words are Colours

Words are colours
People paint.
“I love you—“
“I hate you—“
“You’re so ugly,
I’ll faint.”
They think that those colours
Will fade in a day,
But what they don’t know
Is that colours make paintings--
And murals— and worlds.
Mutters turn to echoes
That alter every hue,
And manipulate the sunlight,
And change the kind of blue
That shimmers in the sky
When you make someone cry.
The world was made with words
And still is being made.
Tell the trees you love them;
Encourage all the stones.
Know your spoken kindness
Invigorates your bones.