She walks in beauty,
like the night,
rollers in,
and hair a sight.
Face pale green,
a beauty pack,
eyebrows plucked,
and then drawn back.
Pyjamas pink,
and winceyette,
such a look,
you wonβt forget.
She walks in slippers,
polka dot,
and thermal socks,
hot to trot!
A classic beauty?
you decide…
(Frankenstein
refused this bride!)
Β© She Walks in Beauty 02.04.2013
by Alexandra Carr-Malcolm
I can see her! Nice!
Ha ha – don’t stare too long, it can be disturbing π
No – I really like what I see π
Haha – each to their own I guess!! π
Fabulous, tres chic
Merci beaucoup π
Hahaha! For a minute there I thought you’d written a poem about me when undergoing my beauty regime!… Or should I say ugly regime.
Haha – I’m afraid it is more of an autobiographic poem π
π
I guess she was lucky that Frankenstein refused her π
Haha I guess so! π
So, you’ve met my old neighbour Doreen, then? π you described her to a tee.
Haha – I’m saying nothing – nowadays I try not to look in the mirrors as I walk past them at bedtime – that’s all I’m saying!!
π
Much too pretty for Frankenstein I presume. Lovely writing.
Haha I wish π