I am a newborn purple untouched by the blackness of my elders. I am sometimes cool but never frigid, and never far from the warmth of the rising or setting sun. I belong to the Painted Desert and am surrounded by blushing pastel cousins -- but I am distinct among them. Of the earth, I rise and bloom and draw dew to my petals until they glitter like amethysts. My perfume is that of lilac, rose and ... yes ... lavender. True calm emanates from within and I am used as a healing tonic. A mountain in the distance is not more lavender than I. I hum hues of Debussy and wear the color of a Van Gogh iris. I'm the shimmer on the surface of a shaded lake and I would make Monet smile.
Copyright 2001 Terri B.
This was a little piece I wrote for a creative writing class in 2001. The task was to "become a color" and write a piece from the perspective of that color. I found it rather difficult to get started, but once started it just poured out. In fact, this piece is the reason I keep a small recorder with me most of the time. I had been dwelling on this assignment for most of a week, and while driving (of course) a phrase suddenly began running through my head. Without paper or pen in the car to write it down I ended up reciting the line out loud all the way home!
I encourage all you writers out there to try this exercise and see what you can do with it.