She calls herself a Ranga

My daughter
Lopes along,
Carefree,
Face uplifted,
Freckles standing proud
Against pale skin,
Head bare,
Silken strands here and there.

But how to say…?
How to describe…?
Ah … that’s it –
Sunstone!

A brilliant counterpoint
To greens and blues,
The hues of Nature all around her.
Liquid copper shot through with gold.

Braid or swathe it;
Coif and curl it;
Flying high,
Uplifted by a breathy breeze.

Sunstone –
A triumphant colour
For the glorious curtain
That is her lustrous, flowing
Hair.

2 thoughts on “She calls herself a Ranga

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