I asked the little boy who cannot see

I asked the little boy who cannot see

I asked the little boy who cannot see,
‘And what is colour like?’
‘Why blue,’ said he,
Is like the pouring rain when it falls in my hair.
Purple is the sweet taste of blackcurrant juice;
And white is like the windy breeze when it blows.
The taste of chocolate, that’s brown;
And yellow is like the sour taste of lemonade.
Red is the sweet smell of strawberries,
and green is the prickly grass when I sit on it.