I asked the little boy who cannot see Lavinia

I asked the little boy who cannot see I asked the little boy who cannot see, ‘And what is colour like?’ ‘Why, red,’ said he, Is like blood that when you graze your knee, Brown is like my cat purring quietly, Juicy mandarins, as orange as can be, Black like the hate, you want to let out desperately. The soft grass so green, which will stay like that forever. Blue is like the ocean waves, hear them crash together, The sun is yellow, you feel it burning your skin. Lavinia