Her skin began to flush until it was pink enough to look human rather than the sleep of the dead.
It was pink with white tips, in an antique brass planter.
The ocean breeze made her dress move as if it was alive, and her pink hair swept across her features.
The hills were a profusion of snowy dogwood and pink plumb and cherry blossoms.
Toby's backpack was there along with his pink coat. Rhyn straightened, angry at himself for not hearing the boy leave. A flash of purple caught his eye through the trees, and he loped through the forest.