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In the Pink


A picture from our Inspiration Corner



A playful, teasing, archly way

to challenge what we took for grant;

the only dark is light in fact,

for hanging shade hints deadly night,

as pupils led from here to end,

from start, this stranger startle path.


My mother hemmed, used pinking shears -

sheep closely shorn are pinked, NZ -

so always learn - those pupils fed -

for verse has taught this old new tricks,

though master none, but jack of all,

I’ll trade until the winds die down.


A simple graphic to design,

with range of hex by code defined,

though nature’s labels fix their stamp,

carnation, coral, fuchsia, rose,

flamingo - reflects what they eat -

or salmon, shock, blush, bubble gum?


The nearer roof, though it alone

shows pixilated, mottled touch,

some stippled artwork of a sponge,

though first evade force drawn to end,

the journey valued, mere the goal,

search cranny, chink, crack, crevice, niche.


The pastel pinks portray perchance

a setting where the sun shines bright,

an interplay, perspective’s dance,

this colonnade, a narrow path.

But pay no heed, dread nearly there;

bled, drained, as is red shed from son.

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