So many people talking about the colour pink.

Easy on the eye,fun and a welcoming pool of fuschia hues to dive into and sit and think.

I’ve been working with colours all day long.

Grading vintage jewellery to sell and make a bit of money – lift my family out of the  stoked,crimson barbeque,by using a non-metallic tong.

Yellow bangles, Purples and golds, Owls that shimmer and Cleopatra looking  more exquisite now she  has aged even more.

Walking up to work – I whirled  up the hill in a tornado of green.

Reached  my destination . I had to check that the colour hadn’t tinged me to my very core.

Life has turned into a midnight Dynasty blue- we photographed a bracelet –  summoning up a vein  of Royalty – plump and ready to imbue.

Retro, retro and  yet,more retro. I wish I could keep all the colours to wear but my bank account  really is in dire need of a couple crispy notes , to be honest, it could do with more than a few.

Red. -Ming -Communist alert. Funny, how I want to stop working ,need to.

Yet,like a drone, I keep seeking for  bijous nectar.

Stop.

Arete.

 Purple  teeth to brush away the  bacteria plaque ,harbouring critters  found breeding, in between . I blame the  dark, chocolate,  kinder egg.

Oh, so that is how I got my wrist fracture.

Off with your head!

White, purity, calm.  All innocent thoughts going on here. I carefully place the mini dream catcher -all browns and turquoises- over my Bella Bee’s bed.

No more nasty dreams about monsters . The ones that  drive her from her slumber in wild gardens ,playing with fairies.

 Those monsters have now been cast out  from her head and indeed even her sweet,minny mouse themed  bed.

Lavender dreams.

Caress me – I feel dislocated – cloth- like – I’m coming apart – no substance  – coming apart at the  very seams

Tethered like an old knotted,  black cord necklace. This catastrophising – all or nothing thinking is driving me into exile. Into an exotic  land so  distant from my  usual  soothing cucumber and luxurious  Aloe Vera  creams.

Drift. Drift. Drift.

Let it all go.

Swift. Swift. Swift.

The tailor down the road has just turned his shop sign from Open to Closed.

I’m forced to heave – expelling out vexed  air – I huff and I puff and I blow!

Detonate – must I implode  in order to recover ?

Will it ever be safe to come out from under that soft, down quilt cover?

Trust is a hue, I can’t even summon with a  lacklustre lamp.

Rubbing abrasively, this genie was set free in haste, a conspiracy against me. Not even  one  wish manages to roll down the takeoff departure  ramp.

He loves you

He loves another.

Blue…. now that is a serious  hue – I prefer mine with a melody , a saxophone. Dew,  be a cool cat and  throw in a soft mew.

Don’t let me miss my last cue.

Come to me honey, I’m ready to be a sugar mama.

*SILLYNESS  inspired by   Grading jewellery and colours and more colours and reading other people’s blogs about the colour pink. For the record, I don’t want to be a sugar mama. *