Coloured man

Simple things, simple words and simple joys.
The colour yellow - and a hug.
Simple handshakes and passing goodbyes,
little things that simply float by.
Simply propelled - by currents, static, convection and aerodynamics.
All abstract forces, that when simplified, don't justify why floaters fly.

Simple folk with simple plans.
Simply living lives in suspended equilibrium.
Myopic neighbours woven into a fabric of simple interactions,
flexing and twisting with the collective tug of simple things,
simple words and simple joys;
the colour yellow - wrung by currents, static and convection.

If simplicity were a colour, it surely would be a Red.
Atomic and cross with the world, but mostly at Blue.
Blue was cool but now distant, icy and cold.

Blue, in his gloom, is simple too.
A colour with breath held; hoping Red still blushed,
a happy rosy glow when she was touched.

Oh and yonder Green, off in the distance,
jealous as only Greens can be
of this polarized binary.
Knowing full well that he is, as colours go,
no less primary.

A twisted technicolor of monochromatic atoms,
spun by currents, static and convection.
None alone and none forgotten.
For it must be so to explain some simple things;
like, the joyous colour Yellow - and a hug.

Yellow is an incorruptible sort.
Made of the stuff that angels fart.
While, often composite and a mixture of two,
simple joys are atomic too.

The simple truth is that simple things combine,
in ways that are simply stupefying.
Propelled and wrung by abstract forces,
that to an atom, when simplified,
don't justify why floaters fly.

For it must be said, as simple things go,
that some simple truths are simply untrue.
For what truth faces miserable Blue;
is that Yellow is made with Red and Green but not of Blue.
While Green plus Blue, well,
is only just Blue.