Blues

She had pride. Queen-sized.
Never too much for anyone.
Just enough to fit her beaming spirits.

And when it got too cold
She would wrap herself in his love.
And dream about the northern lights.

He would never stay the night.
You are not my destination, he said.
Yet she smiled in her sleep.

You will come back again baby.
I may not be much to look at.
But my heart. It's hell of a pit stop.
............................................................................................................................................................

As usual, the poem has nothing to do with the outfit. I had nothing fashionable to talk about. So wrote a poem instead. Please follow me on GFC and Facebook and Instagram if you like reading the blog.