Holding on to the colours

Drenched in the morning rain
And exhausted after the
Day’s long monotonous run,
I lay back in a pensive mood
On the old brown couch.

It's late in the afternoon
And the rain has ceased.
But the howling winds, still wild
Provoke the gloomy heavy clouds;
Rustling leaves hold on tight
To the sopping wet dark branches.
And the blossoms, although
All drenched, retain their radiance.

Every color is still the same,
Green on the leaves,
The dim yellow on the damp sands,
Brown on the shimmering branches;
Red, white, purple and pink,
All sit on the blossoms in
The very same way they had
Earlier this morning.

The hue of my turquoise gown
Also rests on it, just as it had
The day I first ran my fingers across it.

I really can't help but wonder today,
Could my spirit also hold on tight
To it's color and be all the same,
When drenched in the rain,
When under the shadow of the night
And when under the golden beams of hope?
Or will it lose it's radiance, much like
The artificial tree there in the corner?
Oh! I really can't help but wonder
This tiring, cold and rusty afternoon.