Suzie Pink

My friend Suzie Pink me called today.

It was so nice to hear her bright-green voice come out of my off-white phone.

"What up, Bluejean Gene? I hear you've been a smidgeon crawfish-brown."

"Just a little blue" I said. "Little fracture in the robin egg, maybe."

Now just take a wee framboise moment" she opined "...and consider all the muted cordovans & spankin' alyssums you see everyday. No cause to feel faux-taupe."

"I get your netsuke, my hopsack wonder (all aglow with angora); I just... wow, been a trifle dark-edge verdigris."

"It's 2021..." she reasoned "we've all been a little nuthatch, a little cold-moon gray."

"But rally on, my cornsilk friend! You are the first light in my iris, the roseate in my rotation; squirt-red thumps o' my heart & the yarrow o' my spleen!"

"

But

A phosphorescence in her aura came right through the phone.

A

"We're all just a-pushin' through the beige blah, these dowdy mauve moments. The puce of it all."

"Ay ay!" I bisqued. Lifted by an opaline possibility.

"You will abide..." said Suzie. "My greige sweetness. My silvery samovar. "

"



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