She’s the
reason I wear pink shoes
You should have seen the shop –
deep marine blue all over the front.
If her tan was good
she’d wear bright yellow
to make the contrast with the blue.
And she’d make sure her hair colour
was the correct shade of red,
real red, not auburn.
She sold teapots,
all white, with coloured dots –
blue, red, yellow, green.
And jugs for milk, butter dishes to match.
Cups, saucers and mugs in primary colours,
with spots and stripes.
Even her scrubbing brushes had colours –
red and green bristles shone out of willow baskets.
There were throws in autumn garb –
rust, Virginia creeper scarlet, acer and beech brown
and cushions to scatter like falling leaves.
Candles in all colours
some even rainbows,
with holders to match or contrast.
Customers touched things,
they couldn’t resist
picked them up
put them back askew.
A tight smile
a taut thank you as they left.
She’d wait until they had gone,
the door closed behind them
and she’d put everything back
where it should be
perfect
it was her favourite word.
*First published in The Writers’ Café Magazine, April 2018:
