Shabby (and I like
it.)
I peel off the chic and fancy garments adorning me on my day
out
(you know, the ‘dress-up’ type items of apparel that are posh
enough to put on the dog!) My black pants
(now amply decorated with clumps of prolific long white collie dog hair
that has ‘attached’ only moments after my being home)
and my floral, wispy blouse come off! I need my clogs,
my shabby jeans and my loose, comfy cotton.
The truth of it is, I prefer this ultra-shabby, sloppy, slipshod,
uneven and mostly worn-out look above all else.
Perhaps I can travel ‘incognito,’ as a bum or as
a tramp named “Rose” or “Delilah” or “Rita.”
I can pass myself off as someone 'too poor to have an opinion
that would be considered.' I wish I could travel about as this…
and never have to dress up. And I will most likely come back
in a second life as a frumpy old scarecrow
left standing in a field with
only the brave birds as my faithful friends.
(you know, the ‘dress-up’ type items of apparel that are posh
enough to put on the dog!) My black pants
(now amply decorated with clumps of prolific long white collie dog hair
that has ‘attached’ only moments after my being home)
and my floral, wispy blouse come off! I need my clogs,
my shabby jeans and my loose, comfy cotton.
The truth of it is, I prefer this ultra-shabby, sloppy, slipshod,
uneven and mostly worn-out look above all else.
Perhaps I can travel ‘incognito,’ as a bum or as
a tramp named “Rose” or “Delilah” or “Rita.”
I can pass myself off as someone 'too poor to have an opinion
that would be considered.' I wish I could travel about as this…
and never have to dress up. And I will most likely come back
in a second life as a frumpy old scarecrow
left standing in a field with
only the brave birds as my faithful friends.
lg :-)
