I asked the little boy who cannot see

I asked the little boy who cannot see

I asked the little boy who cannot see,
‘And what is colour like?’
‘Why pink,’ said he,
‘Is like the slimy, wiggly touch of a worm.
In the sky is the sun that is shining on me.
Blue is the ocean going swish, swish.
White is like the cold fog that comes creeping in the morning.
Orange is the juicy fruit that I eat for my lunch.
Green is the grass under my feet as I run around the field,
And purple is the plum that is sweet and juicy.

Veisinia