Orange. Makes me stop. Sometimes cringe. Or laugh. Either way, it grabs my attention. Orange is ostentatious. A show off. Always claiming center stage. Definitely NOT a wallflower. Orange wants to be seen and heard. Orange screams. Rarely whispers unless it’s paled and wan. But as soon as orange is well again, it’s raging with life, bouncing off the walls, sticking out its tongue and exclaiming, “BLAH!” That’s orange for you. Splashing neon brightness all over the place. Orange turns my skin a dingy shade of green. Can’t wear orange. Want to hug orange when it opens its arms wide and begs to be embraced in a warm hug. Orange warms, heats, engulfs in flames. Orange is on fire. Up in flames. Orange shades the yellow sun as it dips into the western sky on a romantic summer night. Orange is the awesome leather sofa in my friends’ place. Smooth and rich, inviting. Excited to say hello, sit down, bask in my vibrant color. Orange wants to be noticed. Asks you to use caution around pot holes and construction. Because orange cares. Orange wants you to be safe. Protected. Visible to hunters in deer season. Oh, orange, you have a special place in my conflicted heart and soul. Orange you glad you aren’t pink? Yeah, pink will never hold a special place in any corner of my heart.
– Written by Miss A on July 24, 2011