The Month Of The Pink Moon Poem by Denis Mair

The pink moon of love hides in decorations on porcelain cups...

Because a little girl takes a game of serving tea seriously...

In her own little noggin she arrived at the meaning of pink...

it is the color of the glue holding a family together...

The pink pencil holders and sweaters are just trappings...

The real pink must spend most of its time hidden...

Affection is an open secret between privileged observers...

Affection goes through phases and sometimes you forget its calendar...

One day when you lift your head, it will surprise you over the horizon...

Pink is a baby''s glow that plants itself in your mind...

Pink appears when creative forces cook up something viable...

Oh dowdy grays and somber purples, please yield to its moments of sweet confusion...

Oh sick and ichorous pallor, be dispelled by its excitement...

Pink is universal shorthand for life's fragile tenacity...

Pink is the hidden warrior code of soul-connection through flesh.