I moved into my house twenty years ago, and it is still mostly decorated just the way the former owners left it. Only now it is much grimier thanks to the animals and kids I have acquired during my stay here. I have a terrible time making choices and decisions about home decor. I have no fashion sense, and my anxiety makes it difficult for me settle on anything. There is always a nagging, “But what if…?” and “But what about…?” When I had my first baby I couldn’t bring myself to decorate the nursery because I didn’t know this little person and I didn’t know what he liked and what if he hated all the things I picked out? What if I picked a sports theme and he preferred zoo animals or something? OMG the pressure!! My dad finally just showed up and painted the room blue. The child is 13 now and the room is still the same blue and he doesn’t seem to mind. I tell this story to give you some background about this poem, as well to introduce my next Imposter Adventure. The poem is in response to this prompt at Putting My Feet in the Dirt (love her prompts), and the writing of the poem helped to nudge me along the path to updating my home.

What Color is Life?

The walls of my room

are boring and bland.

Ordinary Eggshell,

yellowing like curdled milk.

A sour atmosphere

that doesn’t reflect

the life within these walls.

But what color is life?

A sleepy, slumbering blue?

A giddy, laughing yellow?

A romantic rose?

A pinky peach newborn?

An angry red that finally fades

into a quiet indigo twilight?

What color is your love for me,

and mine for you,

and ours for this life?

I’m not sure,

but it isn’t eggshell.

© Amy Porterfield 2021