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Color Me
On my fortieth birthday I treated myself to a makeover
Imagine a cosmetician half my age and size
Telling me I was the color of fall
Richly tinted with undertones of amber and gold
That's odd, I thought
My first husband, a pilot, said I was the color of winter
Well not really, he actually said I was frigid
Then he flew south with a woman who had a warmer complexion
My second husband, a gardener, said I was the color of spring
Well not really, he actually said I was all wet
Then he left to hose someone else's garden
My third husband, a meteorologist, said I was the color of summer
Well not really, he actually said I was the sunshine of his life
Then he spawned a series of stormy affairs
My fourth husband, a loser, simply said "Color me gone"
I view myself as a woman for all seasons
I say, "Color me not"
©Janet Paszkowski
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Janet Paszkowski is a freelance visual artist, fiction writer, poet, multiple pug dog owner, mother, wife and wanna–be–recluse. Order of priority subject to hormonal surges!
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©Margie Culbertson
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