The Essence of the Color, the Color is Peach

The colour of peach is softness and grace

The fuzzy that sprouts on a teenage boy’s face

Peach is the slow, steady race

 

In the eighties, peach was the hideous dress

Of the bridesmaid…with big puffy sleeves I would guess

I know it was you…now confess…

 

Peach is that juicy and oh-so-sweet fruit

That squirts and then dribbles right down your clean suit

My mom said too many made her toot

 

Peach is that colour in the huge crayon bin

That only comes out for a Caucasian’s skin

Other than that, it stays in

 

When you call someone “peach” it’s a term of affection

Are ‘fuzzy peaches’ just a Canadian confection?

I open myself to correction

 

When I was a kid in that seventies scene

We used to say “oh, that’s is so ‘peachy keen’”

Nowadays slang is obscene

 

The colour of peach on some people is grand

But on others it really just makes them look bland

Myself, I prefer peaches canned

 

The End

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