The Colours of Life

I have never been much of a Poet. But a conversation with a friend of mine on colors brought out a poetic splurge, and here is my first poem in years:
(PS: don't expect anything great.)

The Colors of Life

The curtain between the fortunate blind and the cursed rest,
the mist that ceases not to exist,
engulfing, alarming, enchanting and irritating.
Whats in a color? No man can answer,

They are all the same,
each one, an ancient poem,
written in a string of doggerel and rhythm that few fathom,
promising to reveal;
the promise - the ultimate seduction,
but disappointing in the end.
I wonder, was the wait, the charm?
Ha, musings of the mental poet!

I am slapped across my face,
by a sea of fluorescence,
its demeanor meaner than the demons,
I have heard of in Grandma tales;

I seek solace in the open arms of Pink,
so warm, so innocent as the baby's smile,
no wonder it is the poet's love;

I come upon the sea of red,
the symbol of love, lust and desire,
its fragrance so heavy as the sound of the lyre,
its green stalk , the throne of the King;

I wander along;
I am greeted by Yellow;
the color of the one with the name I bear,
I welcome the change,
a color so passionately insipid, yet so charming!

As the poetic mind marches on,
I look up at the Sky,
at the the canvas of Blue, the color of Life,
boundless glory, speechless might,

I wonder, as I look around,
A color for each emotion, 
A color for each day, 
A color for each win and a color for each fall.
Nature is the true dealer.