Welcome to my second poem in this series.
Orange is the only color I don’t like.
I’m not exactly sure why that should be.
I love the color red, and that is pretty close.
And often something pink will pleasure me.
But orange — well it somehow seems to agitate.
It makes me restless and so out-of-sorts.
And I feel bad, because it isn’t orange’s fault,
So I do orange occasionally just to be a sport.
But there are some orange things of which I am a fan:
The round, ripe, juicy fruit that we pluck from a tree,
The brightly orange-wrapped Reese’s peanut butter cups,
And candy corn eaten by the handfuls pleasure me.