Anxiety as a color, perhaps fire-engine red?
No, too bright for its smoldering undercurrent.
It could be blue, but of course, sadness has
already staked out her claim to that.
Anxiety - it's like a fog that thickens, then
lifts, not the full-on gray of depression
or, heaven forbid, the black beyond. 
Anxiety, a mist, the light purple haze of
amethyst, a mist that never dissipates, 
even in the warmth of a lemon-colored sun.

This draft poem was written in response to the April 25 prompt from Miz Quickly which helped us to generate pairs of unrelated words to use as poem starters. The words I paired here were “anxiety” and “amethyst.”