In a lovely bedroom in a lovely two-story home on a lovely cul de sac on the outskirts of the city lived a lovely lady. She was pink. Her complexion was very fair. But this morning she was pink. The bedroom was decorated in deep greens and fantasy. As she lay on her left side she faced a table bearing an antique brass telephone. Beyond the telephone was a large walk-in closet. Hung on the door to this closet were two new outfits: one kind of beige and long. The other a very pretty yellow suit. The yellow suit still bore a store sales tag. Behind her as she lay on her left side was a clock radio displaying, in red, the time. On top of this was a tiny pewter wizard holding a pearl in his hands. Likely the pearl of wisdom. It is also the precious stone of those born in June as was this lovely lady. Leaning against the table were a note pad and two or three books. One of these books was In The Meantime. Above her was a sliding glass window, open. Behind her was a sliding glass door leading to a tiny balcony/patio, also open. On both window and door were large wooden white venetian blinds. Over the entry door to the bedroom were photographs of her children. Photographs taken when they were much younger. They are all grown now. They were lovely children. She loves them all. On the light switch plate near the door, under the photographs of her children, is a picture of a fairy. At her feet as she lay in bed was an open bathroom with a wall-to-wall mirror, highly shined. To the far left of this mirror, hanging from the ceiling with nylon thread, was a pretty glass fairy, blue and clear. In the middle of the counter of the bathroom was a large white orchid in a state of transition. Just outside this door and slightly to the left is a two-level stairway. Downstairs, to the right, is a small living room adorned with art and tables holding Grecian statues. The floor of this living room is covered with a plush beige carpet on top of which is a large, green panda bear throw rug. Scattered over this rug are items of clothing. The clothing of one man. One woman. Remember the venetian blinds over the sliding glass door positioned behind the lovely lady as she lay on her left side? Sunlight filtering in through these blinds rediscovers the lovely lady as she turns to face the sliding glass door as she lies sleeping still, now on her right side. Save for the sheet carelessly pulled up to her shoulders she is nude. And pink. And white. And lovely.
Not so very long ago an undeserving man lay beside this lovely lady in her lovely bedroom in the lovely two-story home in a cul de sac on the outskirts of the city. He's not sure anymore why he left. He knows she likes to keep her Sundays to herself and that’s probably the reason. Still. Though. He wishes he’d stayed.