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She wears it

 

She wears it on a Sunday

It is her day without rush

without fuss

without the crush

of the train.

 

She wears it on Mondays

and on Tuesdays.

and on the other busy

weary,

sometimes teary,

sometimes blue days.

 

She wears it on the grey days,

the wet days,

the tired days,

the can’t wait to get home days.

The days when the sky

feels heavy.

The days when it rains.

 

She wears it on the good days

when she has songs

in her head,

glorious certainty

in her step,

and a smile

on her face

which everybody

returns.

 

She wears it on the special days

the high days

and the holidays

the friends days

the family days

the soaking up the sun days

the feeling like a goddess days.

 

She wears it

every day

without exception

or omission.

 

She wears it

every single day,

for me.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Marcos Beccari

 

 

 

 

 
5 Comments

Posted by on July 10, 2017 in Poetry, Still Life

 

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