My Favorite Color #OctPoWriMo

Colors mean a lot to us, though I don’t think we often think about it. Today’s prompt for OctPoWro brought that that back to my mind.

If ask any of my kids, my wife, even my grandson, they will all tell you my favorite color is orange. And it has been since – well, before I knew it was.

Since I was a child
My favorite color was orange
For a while I thought it was blue
But I realized I was wrong as I grew

My favorite color was orange
Even though it wasn’t a popular choice
And certainly not the favorite of other boys

For a while I thought it was blue
And it took me many years to admit
That orange was really it

But I realized I was wrong as I grew
Papaw’s trucks were always orange
It seem this color had appeal to him too

Looking back on find memories from my childhood, I remember my Papaw always had a truck; I can only remember him not having one during the last few years of his life.

The first one I remember was an orange GMC Sierra with a “three on the tree” (three speed manual transmission with the gearshift on the steering column). I loved that truck! In fact I loved it so much that for Christmas that year he and Granny bought me a Tonka truck exactly like it (except for the white cab-roof on my toy); I still have that truck locked away safely today. Every truck he had was a shade of orange; somethings he’d settle for a more red-looking color, but it was still orange.

In the mid-nineties I bought my first truck: a 1971 Chevy C-10 long box; the cousin to the truck Papaw owned and I loved so much. I even began to carry on his tradition of naming the truck. He always called his Betsy if I remember right; this truck was now-and-forevermore The Orange Blossom Special, or “Blossom” for short.

I chose to write this using the trimeric form because of its versatility and lends itself so well with prose, in my opinion at least. I was tempted to go on with more stanzas but didn’t want the poem to become too long; the post’s overall length is more than I’d intended to start with.