Pinky Girl

It’s a tepid color really. 
Surely not an emotional banner
to wave about one’s head;
capable of warding off chills and evil people.
How can pink be a true reflection of the Girl?
For her, pink seems to be too pale a color;
incapable of reflecting the ruby within her soul,
the passionate pomegranate ready to burst.
Pink is but a ghost of the blush that betrays her moods.
Alone, pink barely seems to do her justice. Except it is a pleasing choice 
for a floppy hat or mittened scarf.
Girl thinks in more robust colors that bolster her thoughts.
She is, after all, in the pink of perfection, is she not?
Of late she often takes on a rosy disposition;
has even cast off her tinted glasses.
Although she does think in jagged edges, all ins and outs,
about every situation as she cuts through life.
Maybe someday she’ll sail a pinque,
to Poland and let them call her Pinkie.

by Marilyn Paluszak

Pink was a fly magnet in Southern Australia along the Great Ocean Highway.

Paluszak in Polish is derived from “mały palec” – little finger. I extrapolated that to mean pinky or pinkie. Is that poetic license?

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