Knute Skinner
My Favourite Colour
She eased herself down the ladder,
bucket in one hand, brush in the other,
then pointing her head at the wall,
gave me a smile.
Do you like it? she asked.
I stood there a moment as if to appraise.
There were bright drops of blue on her chin
and a smudge like blue rouge on her left cheek.
A runnel of blue had halted
just over her nose.
I love it I said, stepping closer.
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