I walk past often,
Licking the polished window that divides
Me from a pink hat;
Too expensive and expansive,
Too luring to ignore.
I tried it on once, and it suited
My pale skin wonderfully,
Brought allure to my chin,
Flushed me with life, and still
I thought, perhaps
It was not right, not sane, not for now, not for me.
What hat would like to be
Locked up and hidden?
Too upsetting a colour. And then colours fade,
Grow pale, and a pale pink
Would turn my skin grey. So I said,
Closed my eyes and left, heading home
To my family. Perhaps later, but then
My grandmothers wore dark blue or harmless pastels.
I desire pink.