I had the honour of meeting a woman.

Who wore bold colours.

Print from head to toe.

She said herself, she was a disco ball.

But her delight.

Her delight in her colour.

In her playful colour.

Never dulled.

She simply knew.

It was who she was.

And she’d rather be true, than black.

And somehow.

Her colour.

Rubbed off on us.

And so we all said cheers to her.

And we walked away, with a little more sunshine on a rainy day.