Tuesday, November 18, 2008


It matters not
To those who will see
Without a thought
Of propriety
Selection of garb
For day of inconsequential interaction

Yet still she stands
Perplexed, unsure
Of who she is and what will fit
The state she’s in without a hint
Revealed to those whose path
Might cross as functioning on she goes

For what is the cut that fits the mood
Of ease and comfort
Or the constriction of formality
Unsure of who she is and what is right
For what she is supposed to be

With vast selection and depth of choice
But not a one will match the voice
That speaks to her of what is wrong
Or what is right

Selection stifled by too much thought
Turns away from so much there
Still unsure of what to wear
But none is right and all are wrong
To define the thing she is inside
As if it made any difference
To anyone
But her
Picture source

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