Sometimes I feel like a color wheel,
my green thumb having all the fun.
Which primary will the pen start to run?
Red enough to fight, blue from freight.
On second thought, a purple passage,
tiny white flowers yeilding orange massive.
Sometimes adding white to adjust my tint,
weary of black, becoming easily stint.
A color-blind spectrum,
you blush as I let you in.
Color-fast, vivid, mood shifts livid;
this lackluster hue, a tinge overdue.
Sometimes pale, frequently bright,
wave lenghts reflect a luminous insight.
Whether adjacent or complimentary,
mixing emerges as rudimentary.
In the life of a color wheel,
you never know just how to feel.