Colorblind

I had a friend who's colorblind
She only saw black, white, and gray.
Every moment she could find
was spent with paint, pastels, and clay.

I met her in a class we took
was moved both by her charm and looks

Her art was of a curious kind
filled with life, vibrant, sublime
The curiosity defined
I often processed in my time

For when I looked upon her life
I was puzzled, wrought with strife

Every work that she employed
Was marked by beauty and delight
She was quite plain, yet filled with joy
And not once hindered by her plight

Now to my work I do digress
and fear that I now must confess

Let me tell you, this is true
I work with colors, textures, hues
Persisting hard, I do I do
But what I see... I'm telling you....

There is no harm upon my eyes
And when I work I try I try
Yet to my sadness, my demise
I cannot help but wonder why

Upon my work I fix my sight
And all I see is black and white.