It was October,
but Margo was still wearing
short summer skirts.
It was one that had
Turquoise blue flower prints,
the one that didn't
go past her knees.
Another one that she wore
was with a red plaid print,
the one she would wear all the time
with her worn out leather sandals.
And then she had the white flowy skirt,
the one that swirled around her ankles
glimmering in the
soft autumn light.
She loved her skirts
And missed the warm breeze
Blending in with the smell of
sea salt waters.
She would wear it outside,
sitting on that old wooden rocking chair,
and feel the autumn wind
brush through her hair.
Because that's just Margo
She would wear her
short summer skirts
everywhere.
but Margo was still wearing
short summer skirts.
It was one that had
Turquoise blue flower prints,
the one that didn't
go past her knees.
Another one that she wore
was with a red plaid print,
the one she would wear all the time
with her worn out leather sandals.
And then she had the white flowy skirt,
the one that swirled around her ankles
glimmering in the
soft autumn light.
She loved her skirts
And missed the warm breeze
Blending in with the smell of
sea salt waters.
She would wear it outside,
sitting on that old wooden rocking chair,
and feel the autumn wind
brush through her hair.
Because that's just Margo
She would wear her
short summer skirts
everywhere.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.