I was a celebrated, professional psychic, offering glimpses of rosy future;
And helping people work through problems, like pink moon, come sooner.

I had learnt to talk with the spirits, and also relate what they were saying,
To the ones left loving and lingering, like peach rose on jade vine, swaying.

Although the certitude of ESP is often debated, some people do possess it;
Like the mysterious biennial appearance of Mars, to plum skies, so scarlet.

I had long painted for a hobby, and lovely colors had ever fascinated me;
And it was hard to envisage the world without them, in diminished beauty.

Full flowering fields adored flaming sun, when forever friends spoke freely,
On genial visits, amid summer's fancy days, like rainbows coming, ideally.

Fab family visited, amidst fantasia birdsongs, at the corner of green-gold,
When days had turned fuchsia fair, like soon evenings sunrise had foretold.

I lived in the house of mesmeric mime, and many still, golden hours, lazy,
Where a mute sun warmed the merry heart, every day a marigold maybe.

Sacred sunset sacrifice was ofttimes scarlet, and often plum, on my street,
As searing skies sometimes scatter saffron, like the policeman on his beat.

Naturalness was in nocturne smiles of neighbors, calling to visit me awhile,
In new evening, of nectarine noon gone by, as fresh and vibrant as a child.

Hair allium had grown quite unruly, its crowning, green mane all in tangles;
As starfish irises swam waves of molten gold, their hues bright as bangles.

Rip Van Winkle daffodil had long since reawakened, living 20 years in a day;
As pink protea pincushions screamed summer, like a hued, starry Milky Way!

While painting one day, I became drowsy, then went to lay down for a nap;
And promptly began dreaming in black and white, like vibrancy entrapped!

But one by one, familiar colors emerged, in objects that we know and love;
As honey sun shone like a medallion, soon highlighting sapphire sky above.

Then marshmallow cream clouds took shape; then a luscious green all over;
And swaying blooms showed in turn, as if from nebulous, heaven's spillover!

Later, private houses began appearing, with all of their active, colorful lives;
And cars, red butterfly and shops, like the fragrant moment, destiny arrives.

Like the apt, genuine psychic that I was, I'd seen gorgeous colors foretold;
For when deep emerald nature is blushing, she sparkles colors uncontrolled!

As unencumbered, I slumbered like summer, I dreamt beauties unnumbered,
So thrilled that we live in a colorful world, that is by golden time, plundered.