Just shy over picturesque boot and shoe,
yesterday's waves of velvet, satin, chiffon and hose,
hummed pure Scarlet on five foot two .
Now castaways, a ruby island of clothes.

Rubbish bags now heave, full to the brim
of unrepentant bohemian, gypsy trousseau -
stuffed with my smile and dreams, my hopes swim
to surface a heroic curtsy, fore the deathblow.

Dragged to the kerb, life slaps me once more,
my past soldiers up, ten rubbish bags in a row.
A new neighbour introduces himself as Thor.
I don't even look, "Call me Jane..... Jane Doe."



.

NICE

Nice .