Yes I love this poem jArthur but I think just a little too long. Maybe you
could cut a few lines with the beginning "If".
Pink by the way is definetly the "in" colour at the moment. How do I know? I
went on holiday recently to a fashionable part of Italy and was told that
pink was THE colour last season and also this season too. Just a differant
shade. So your granddaughter is in fashion.
A lovely gentle poem I found and would be good to hear in performance.bw
sally j


>From: Arthur Seeley <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New Sub: Choosing a gift
>Date: Thu, 11 Nov 2004 11:07:44 -0000
>
>Choosing a gift
>
>
>
>She has this thing about pink,
>
>it's more of a yen than a thing,
>
>perhaps more a yearning than a yen,
>
>certainly it is an overwhelming desire,
>
>an all-consuming hunger, you might say,
>
>or you might say, a grand obsession.
>
>
>
>If pink did not exist she would invent it,
>
>she would discover it, seek it out,
>
>find it, mine it, harvest it,
>
>hunt it to the ends of the earth,
>
>look for it in the deepest places,
>
>dare blizzard and tempest,
>
>earthquake and hurricane for it,
>
>just for a jar of it, a sample of it,
>
>a spoonful, a soupcon, a smidgen, a smear of it.
>
>
>
>If pink was running for president she would vote for it.
>
>If pink was a prisoner held in durance vile
>
>she would dare a squadron of dragons to free it.
>
>If it were a share on the stock market she would invest in it.
>
>If pink were a planet she'd send spaceships to it.
>
>If it were a religion she would convert to it, raise altars to it.
>
>If it were a film star, a pop star or some such celebrity
>
>she would write fan letters, demand photos and autographs
>
>and locks of coiled pink hair.
>
>She would squeal as it passed in a pink Cadillac with smoked windows,
>
>weep for it, stick it on her wall
>
>and sigh each night before she turned
>
>to float through dreams of Pinkdom.
>
>
>
>She wears pink, layers of it,
>
>walks around glowing like a raked fire,
>
>or a smacked arse, like a carnation or a freshly boiled crab.
>
>She changes light like a glass of vin rose,
>
>like a dawn's beginnings,
>
>or a summer evening melting into night.
>
>She shines like the inside of a pomegranate
>
>or a bitten fig, a rose petal.
>
>She is herself quintessentially pink,
>
>pink to the very core of her,
>
>from tiny pink toe to the ribbon that binds her hair,
>
>tip to glowing pink tip of her fingers.
>
>
>
>I have detailed, at some length I have to agree,
>
>her devotion to the cult of pinkery and all things pink
>
>but I do this only to confirm that, come Christmas,
>
>I shall have no difficulties
>
>with my four-year-old grand daughter,
>
>no problem choosing the right gifts for her.
>
>
>
>If its pink its in

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