Ok, so we're at day five. Do you feel yourself settling into a rhythm or making up rules you have to stick by? Weird eh! This one is sentimental in nature. No apologies, deal with it!
Keep going fellow poem fans!
Mark x
PS. The rug behind my main picture is the rug in question. Sorry you can't see the pink and scarlet.
Threads and Motifs
Pink has always been your colour;
a colour northern males
view with unsettled suspicion.
It took me thirty-two years to wear it
and feel comfortable
while you expanded your palette
chameleon-like and thrived.
When Spain disappointed
with rain that one May week
(we should have listened to Henry Higgins),
we took a trip to Nijar,
famed for its handicrafts;
an activity northern males
view with unsettled suspicion.
The haystack of rugs,
textile and tactile became
overblown page-turner novel,
plot written in warp and weft.
We searched for our Cinderella,
to take home and promote
from floor to wall hanging.
When we saw the strip of
hot pink above a scarlet stripe,
we both felt the slipper fit.
I paid, (another activity northern males
view with unsettled suspicion)
feeling a shiver of synchronicity;
some things are meant to be.
I’m grateful you are
the hot pink stripe
to my cool calico ways;
a sparkling rosé blush
bringing colour,
effervescence and tang
to my plain vanilla days.
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