As soon as my son felt the softness of the pink
fluffy fabric draped around me, he agreed that
he wanted such a soft blanket also, I bought him
one in turquoise & saw that all the soft pastels in
his room - from the bright comforter in blues to the
blue-and-green-striped small blanket and now the
latest in turquoise - came from me and the stark
greys, blacks and boring navy blues that used to
make it a dark place, are totally conquered by the
soft, new colours of spring: though he says nobody
cares about colour but me, I'm sure he's starting to
fall under the spell of the charming watercolour-
palette that brings light and happiness into his room…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem