Nothing rhymes with “purple”,
So how can I explain
These colours on the open moors
Along this country lane?
Passionate, and ruby red,
The last of summer wine
A royal blanket on the ground
At coronation time.
Nothing rhymes with “orange”,
So how can I compare
The blood red sunset on the peaks
Presenting in the air?
Zingy, zesty, full of life,
A pop before our eyes,
A blazing furnace, liquid gold
Across these August skies.
Nothing rhymes with “rhythm”,
Yet it flows through us all day,
And arcs across our universe
At work, at rest, at play.
David's Poems 