Tag Archives: pink
The same faces, hair and even glasses mark them out as special. One wears bright red trousers and a fleece with green stars; the other pale green trousers and pink love hearts. Different souls reside within these identical bodies.
It shines through skeletal leaves. Tinged pink and orange, they glow like Christmas lights. An early morning light show penetrates the frost.
Bright pink flowers burst with life. Consummate showmen, they zing against the grey of the rain-soaked window. Tight buds wait in the wings beneath the dark green leaves, ready for their cue to enter.
They move in a pack, chasing after a girl who rides a pink scooter. She wears a green onesie, a belt round her middle. One child looks at me warily, then runs off to join the others on the playground. … Continue reading
Summer’s residue, they slowly change from pink to red. Pregnant with Autumn’s promise of harvest and plenty – a dream of fire-lit hearths and steaming mugs of rose hip tea.
She’s not interested in the carefully constructed apparatus. Shining in her pink summer dress, with her baby blonde hair, she swings on the bright yellow gate instead.
Pink and frilly, it is perched on top of a laughing father’s head. It’s owner is behind him, carried in her mother’s arms. She giggles and snatches at it with her little baby hands.
The only surviving flowers from a beautiful bouquet. They glow, pink and perfect. Petals spiralling into a delicate centre, each one is unique, its scent rising with every brush or sniff.
A tiny baby’s hand curls itself around the handle-post on the bus. The pink little fingers, brand new and tipped with their perfect little nails, stand out against the plastic, orange garishness of the post. Both man-made, yet one so … Continue reading
A tiny black figure manoeuvres skilfully against the grey tide. As his kite turns, a flash of bright orange lights up against the pink, twilit sky.