Little Pink Dress on a Grey Cloud

I chose that little pink dress
I chose that dress once upon a choice
My own, my will, my chance
My time for merry fuchsia
Like a pendulous teardrop
Might dance from the dusty
Pink and white of a little girl
Into the bold of womanhood
Into RESPECT, like it had mixed
In with violet and black
To be noticed, to be seen
To be heard, to be known.
Pale Red, but bright Pink
Like a Pop Art kind
of popsicle fun
You might find in a fairground
Or someplace wild with
History.
I chose that little pink dress
Not for little grey clouds
With clothes pegs.
Not to be hung out to dry
Not to be forgotten
Not for you to shred into
Pieces of something unmistakably
Unthinkably attached to strings
Or pulleys
Or coloured young
Or filled by someone else
It’s still my dress.
It’s my flamingo
It’s not traditional white
There is no dove
It’s still my choice
It’s still our choice.
Man, woman, us, they
Anyone who knows equal
Once upon a choice
Is still now
Standing proud.
Bold, hot with life, here
Lined with a forest green velvet
heart and ocean smile......

Pink!