Color

Stranded in a bleak world of black and white, I walk, remembering the days of color.  
The little ones have no concept of color, they were born without it.
I arrive at the docks, where the boat floats, anchored to the muddy floor,
Fishing isn’t what it used to be.
No more muddy brown water, no more iridescent, shining fish, no more life in it.
I wish the color was back.
It’s the first time I have been fishing since the Event; I wonder how it will be
I step into the boat, feeling it rock as my weight is transferred.
I lose myself in the familiar sensations, there is no color,
Just grey, no blues, no light green leaves. Nothing.
But wait, something is wrong, I drag my hand through the water,
Feel the coolness of it caress my skin.
That is all.
No sound. Nothing, not the chirping of the colorful songbirds,
Not the whistle of the wind through the trees
When did this happen? I can hear myself breath, I can hear the others, why not the water?
It must be another thing robbed from us by the Event.
It started with Red, then Yellow, then Blue; soon after, all the other color drained out.
The sound must have gone too, race, language, everything is gone
The scientists took it away in the Event.
I am angry, so I switch on the motor, and the rumbling fills the silence
I don’t know where I am going, but I am going far.
Soon, I cannot see the land; there is nothing but a grey mist shrouding me, the sun, a white dot in the sky
Days and days go by, I am alone in the water.
And then, what's this? Is it sound? It can’t be!
I switch off the motor and listen; the scientists must have overlooked this part,
There is a whisper of water on the wind
I am free, I feel better than I have ever felt before
An old man on the sea, laughing at nothing, what I sight to behold
Then I look again, and see, just a little bit of color leaking back into my creased hand.
I am just an old man, dancing on a boat, dancing for the color and the sound of the world,
An old man, dancing for the world.