Does one really wear the clothes, or is it vice versa?


Today, I wear my silken shawl,
Bought from a stall of antiqueties.
It is not new, but aged threads
Woven, from a lifetime of another.

As I walk, I feel the eyes
Of passing Gentlemen
Follow my tiny steps
And I coyly finger
My jet choker, with it's
Oval cameo centerpiece.
My eyelids drop
In chaste defence
Should they think me free of type,
Then, with girlish gait,
I raise my head, haughtily,
Pointing my nose in the air,
And shake my imaginary
Cascade of ringlettes.
Returning home, I fold my shawl,
Lay upon the tissue paper
And place it into it's pretty box.

I gaze into the mirror...mmnnn
Tomorrow, I wonder,
And then I smile,
Tomorrow.....I 'may' wear,
My fishnet stockings
And black leather mini skirt.


(c) ZYDHA HART 2005