I met a child a year ago
Whose eyes would never see.
She asked me with a timid smile,
"What colour is a tree?"
"In summertime a tree is green;
In autumn gold and red;
In winter they are frosted white
when all their leaves are shed."
"I know the sky is blue," she said.
"And silver is the sand;
And apples are the brightest red.
What colour is a man?"
"Man is many colours child:
Some are yellow, some are brown.
And some are black as sightlessness,
Some white as eiderdown."
She took her crayons from a box
And placed them in my glove
And said, "By mixing all of these
Comes my favourite colour--love."
© 1965; Joni Mitchell
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