Purple.
Isn't it such a symbolic color?
It can stand for a lovely girls' Easter gown,
Or a joyous set of eagerly awaiting dyed eggs.
Purple can be the perfect, pungent taste of ripe plums
Or the crunch and slurp of the best, freshest blueberries.
The feel of soft velvet beneath the fingers,
Like a flower's soft petals flopping lazily through wind.
A pitter-pattering rain chattering with the mud swirling beneath,
Or the dull thud of falling grapes to a brick path below.
It could be the blanket of royalty, wielding its prideful head,
But not simply a color any longer.