A Poem: Pink

I didn’t know I was pink,
or blue with a soft coral edge.

I didn’t know the world and I
could change colour
according to the sky.

Perhaps it’s the trees
with their red tips lit.

But tonight the world exhaled
as lovers collapsing
into quilts.

And softened as a babe
replete at the breast.

That I thought,
if this is grace
I now understand.

My hands flushed
as by candlelight,

imbued with
the colour
in which they’re enveloped.

This setting sun entreating
the world to yield

as grace upon skin,
pores wide
open.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
May 2019


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