nevertheless, she persisted.

at an artist talk i went to, 

the artist said that as he grew older, color mattered less & less
but how could color ever not matter 

when that means i wouldn't be able to see the shades of browns in your eyes?
or the pink of those lips?
or the color of the week, whenever you dye your hair?
how could it not mean much when it means you wouldn't color my life the way you do?
when i wouldn't see the blush on your cheeks or tan of your skin?
i see purple, red, blue, green, orange, yellow, brown, black, & white
& every color in between when i look at you
you're the rainbow at the end of my day & if i couldn't see your colors

maybe art wouldn't mean as much to me