Quackery Wackery Dock, ye, yes ye, our Quackdom Queen,
hath doth run out of socks!
Tho multitudinous, thy choice of footwear, and never (ever), lacking frocks,
a fine mess ye royal dressing chamber, so tidy, clean and launder,
ere thy head done doth befound itself, on ye olde chopping block!
June 30, 2019
~Marcela: taking poetic license and squishing lines… rebel rebel, but doing it, as ever, finely and fun-ly clad, for I have indulged my penchant, for (too) many choices… let it be known, however, that most often, this Queen prefers to purchase previously loved (thereby planet friendly), high end/well-made (thereby lasting a very long time), attire and previously noted multitudinous pairs of footwear.
Day 2: Who was the last person you texted? Write a five line poem to that person.
It so happens, that I was the last person I texted. I often send myself reminders, and this one was about some measurement or other in ye Royal Dressing Chamber, the last room in the new Quackdom, still requiring significant attention…