This is for Jenny‘s Wednesday write.
We were seven sisters, so mum colour coded our clothes to make mornings run more smoothly. We’re not seven any more: Red ran off with a tight-rope walker and sends back pictures of herself in spangles; Orange keeps a hundred different kinds of chicken, and makes pots of unlikely jam; Yellow’s on an ashram in India, finding herself; Green is a corporate lawyer and only ever wears black; Blue – well, you know what happened to her; baby Violet is a tattoo artist in Birmingham; and me? I write angry love poems and wear whatever colour I please.
Sarah writes poems 