I am light, neither I am black nor I am white,
These are the objects that react and write,
Having many radiations of several wave lengths,
And the objects grasp according to strengths,
Properties and approach they have in all,
Some digest all whether large or small,
Keeping seven radiations of my lovely kite,
They appear as black but their soul is white.

I am not sticking, the objects have glue,
I'm neither violet nor indigo nor blue,
Nor green nor yellow nor orange nor red,
Neither I'm alive nor am I dead,
Invisible I am and colors I grant,
That depends on reflection and its want.

One reflects the seven and white is the write,
I like colors, keep a few and reflect the elite,
Sometimes appear as the printed violets,
On indigo uniforms of girls' sweet sonnets,
As blue sun glasses of a beauty on a bike,
Like green belts their belly I strike,
Like yellow ribbon in the silky hair,
Like orange socks in the soft cute pair,
Like red shoes I kiss their feet,
This is how the beauty I love to treat.
Extremely amorous I am the nature,
And you're my carvings and sculpture.

Akhtar Jawad

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-am-amorous-nature/