Optic neuritis
My mind remembers colors I can no longer see
In sleep the colors come again. The silver of my first car. The red of the first roses a teenage boy once gave me.
Vibrant greens of wooded trails Shades of pink from blooming rhododendrons
Oranges and purples and yellows and blues All in sharp clean lines
In sleep I am reminded of the joy of rising suns Of flowers in a mountain field, Of loved ones’ eyes
One by one the colors come Freed at night to dance around my mind
Sometimes the colors paint fairy tales in joyful celebration Other times stormy nightmares that startle me awake
But always, always, always When I wake to meet the day I keep eyes shut for a few more Hoping for a lingering scene Before I return to muted colors, Fuzzy edges And blurred faces.
About the Creator
Heidi Wright
Writing helps me figure out what I think and feel about life. I have a degree in journalism and have mostly worked in marketing and public relations. I’ve written web content, ads, etc. Now I’m venturing into the field of fiction.
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