Analysis of Your turn

                   Your Turn
As I walked a fiery Autumn road,
   I all but missed the maples bleeding red,
Willows weeping leaves now tinged and yellowed,
   a Pollack canvas, titled “Summer’s fled.”

Tumbling rainbows barely brushed my eyes,
    and leaves rushed by in colors with no mane.
I stared senseless at the fall-bright skies,
    Fall present...past, sometimes to me the same.

But, then, I turned and you were by my side,
    your eyes intense and taking all this in.
For all these years, my teacher and my guide
    in picking out the colors as they spin.

In turn, you help a color-blind man see.
    Now take my hand and name new hues for me.