Perceptions Of Pink Poem by Carrie D'Amato

You asked me the other day if I saw in pink.
I wasn’t so much surprised by the question
(because I knew neon was how you saw the world)
as I was caught off-guard by it;
no one ever asked me if I saw in color before.

I gave you the first answer that came to mind–
No. I saw the world in cliches and over-used metaphors.
I told you I love anything average and sappy.
Yet, I started thinking more about pink;
specifically, a handmade, chenille, pastel-pink blanket.

I brought my textured pink close enough to examine,
I saw the threads that were frayed, the ones soft with use,
and the occasional red and white strings not hidden well enough.
I saw the craftsmanship: the passion that moves into forms
and the discipline it takes to create.

If you were to walk by me and my blanket of cliches,
you would say you saw a handmade, chenille, pastel-pink blanket.
I invite you yo look closer, as I have done,
to the red passions, the cool-white of discipline, the interwoven threads,
and you will see that everything is the color pink.