Jelly Beans

The bag of jelly beans tempts me from across the room,
The colors begging me to taste them, “Come on.”
I look at the black so much like tar, gritty between my teeth.
The yellow beckons with a tangy sweetness of lemon
While green adds its lime discord a bit off key.

Orange matches the fruit as my tongue longs to sample.
The red could be spicy or cherry, wonder which?
Other colors don’t seem to care if I choose or not:
Pink, such a faded red; white, adding nothing to the mix.
I wonder why no indigo, like the canopy overhead

Just before night, lounges in the bag, or blue?
Blue, so luscious like the coolness of the sky, waits
For a touch to find the warmth of stream water in June.
No violet exists there either, awaiting like a flower bed.
I sigh and select instead a piece of dark brown chocolate.