Pink Memories

There once was a girl,
when every other weekend she'd do the twirl.
So pretty in pink;
when did she ever get drenched in blue ink?
Back in the day,
she'd go out and play;
outside is where she spent most of her day.
Irrespective of what she spoke,
all her friends would laugh at her jokes.
Her words never assumed to be offensive;
never really feared and got defensive.
They ate and drank and hung out together,
although none of them, birds of the same feather.
Mutual respect and friendly love for each other,
never crossed that line to destroy another.
All is well;
tomorrow they'll still gel.
Today's incident will all be forgotten;
unlike adults it will not get rotten.
Pride was not there,
among them anywhere.
And decisions were easy,
alone and breezy.
Pink, green, fluorescent and yellow,
none of her clothes were ever mellow.
Earrings, size of the Eiffel;
clips and knick knacks layered up as a trifle.
Goth, pixie, next-door, barbie, glam, boho, unicorn,
so many looks, everyday she was grateful to be born.
So many stilettos, but only ten toes;
you see, what-to-wear was one of her few woes.
All through her youth,
the girl was called cute.
Beautiful not dutiful;
pretty not witty.
Sassy and chatty,
nobody would misinterpret.
In the city of freedom,
there's no need for treason.
The garden of Eden was no glass museum.
It wasn't all vain,
the confidence to wake up again;
didn't need anything to feign.
Now, no longer youth.
Have got the wisdom tooth;
Can't afford to be uncouth.
She's still alive and kicking.
Wake her up when all this ends;
Rewind, yesterday with all her friends.
Pretty in pink;
but with the memory and blink
....of today.

- RUELHA CANDIDDA