Blank Painted Canvas

I used to wonder what it would be like;

Either blind and colourblind.

The world before, devoid of colours

And was used to black and white.

There were different scales

And shades of the two.

What of the people who felt blue,

Was that a shade before me?

Just an interest in the things past me

how the colours now seem to fit,

Or was I there before,

Have I already seen it?

The people beneath the sun,

Were the rays different shades of white?

What about the sky above you;

Before colours were in hue

How were the clouds' shade of gloomy?

And the flowers in the field of Mary

Upon leaving the spring;

The contours of water rippling

The artists that painted

Has different shades of way

On how the colours appeal

About what the scenery would feel

Like a blank painted canvas

Sitting still by the veranda

It could have any paint,

What was the agenda?