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Writing Prompt, The Third

If you’ve ever smelled the first spring breeze or felt the caress of a new sprung blossom tickling your skin, you know pink. It’s soft. It’s a touch instead of a blow. It’s as smooth and fresh as a newborn and light like a sheet that you use when sleeping in the full blush of summer with the windows open, carrying the stars into your room to sweep across your closed eyelids.
Pink has a smell sweet like honeysuckle and frothy as foam. The scent of it is lingering. It wafts without landing, swirling around as though the air itself was stirred into a frenzy and it simply floats on top. Creamy and smooth on your tongue, pink settles in your stomach like ice cream. Delicious, but it’s a treat that can turn heavy when you get too much.

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