Sharp reds

   Sips taken of my petite sirah port. Slowly each taste
bud is assaulted by bursting flavors. First a sharp
pungent alkaline taste. Then the lush blackberries,
fig and dark raspberries hints with echoing dark
chocolate. Then the completion of smoothness and
mellow oaked undertones slides lovingly down my
throat. Caressing each chord as the mysteriousness
beckons a sigh.

    Seated here in blues (denim classic sweethearts and
navy cottons tied down) and softest silky brown. Hiding
a bit of paleness but enough to intrigue the senses.
All these tones enhance the startling baby blue eyes
and the sunkissed coppery strands.

    So grateful that those strands cannot gain a patina
upon them. Just a sheer shine. La but alas a couple
decades ago green and pink both graced those curls.
Trial and errors of the attempt to erase any remnants
of the classic redhead statements from my person. Ah
to no avail I cannot avoid the brightness of such
colors.  Now I have accepted what I could not change
then. The rarity I am adds to the beauty so many see.

    Just so to the paleness that echoes from such
toned coppers. For as long as I can recall, childhood
to just a few years ago, the cravings to be just a tad
bit darker. Anything but being the pale pinkish peach
with a multitude of freckles. Ah but no chance.

   Onward I go. Emotions that crawl deep within.
Itching for a voice. Still all stays quiet. I hope with all
my might that this ache disappears. One by one the
taunt ridges desensitize. Really hoping. Praying.

    Ah solitude. Listening to music, reading a book,
a blog. Happy to see shiny flowers caress my eyes.
Softness is the thought of beauty. Aged or
sunkissed, nevertheless the forwardness in hopes of
catching sight of one. Either be dropped into hands to
hold forever or just state in awe for a moment or two.
Whichever is granted, one powerful charge of joy
absorbed into my spirit.

    Ah a tight, weighed sigh is released. All that vibrates
within soul, hopefully, soothes because the breeze
over skin hurts and the fingers become severe
overkill.

    Oh I lay my head back against the cushions. All
in hopes that the thoughts, the memories cease long
enough for the growling, purring to exit. Oh hold me
I ask. Oh hear the voice that is quivering inside.

    Help me empty the soul of the minx. Create once
again the quirky, silly female because the mystery
behind this smile is beckoning for a kiss.

    Oh I must go outside. Tumbling, fumbling against
the door to catch a silent exhale. Just breathe. Icy
air striking my lungs and pressing all needs for that
one hug out of system.

   Dear friend press a button and watch the shows of
comedy about a minx within this redhead.

    Laugh with me because all else is echoing
madness for the need of a smile, hug or hello.