I love the way her boots increase her rhyme.
The rhythm of her smile draws from the suede,
A softer line, a bluer gleam of thyme
The crushing aromatically persuades.
The scarf, a flash of Gokian genius, flares.
The outward-facing light delights the crowd.
The trinket, primed for purpose, richly shares
A treasure that is tenderly allowed.
But how does pleasing glamour stoke the flame?
Is this a runway glory running wild?
She knows it is the form which has a name
Which here is sacramentally compiled.
She steps with loving help into her stride
And all the tricksey trippers step aside!
Sarah de Nordwall 3rd February 2011
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