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Irene....My Mother and I.

I cannot believe I am her daughter!
She always dressed in the very best taste.
Very little jewelry, conservative
dresses, no slacks, are you kidding?
A white-gloved perfect lady,she.

Hats she wore yes, exquisite ones.
Never a babushka on her coiffure.
Boots,too, my Mother loathed,
In those years, verily homely were they.
However,in platformed  heels, she was 
   true beauty in motion.
           
Panagiota, her daughter, the dreamer,
Thinks everyday day is Carnival in Rio!
And would wear a Samba outfit 
Right this day, if only she could!
Be a true Sambanista, bringing the joys
     of Brazil to your neighborhood.

Loves humongous earrings and necklaces.
People stare at her with strange faces.
And she is insane over shoes metallic.
With colorful gems upon them or
flowers, totally exotic.

Her dreams to be a Rockette, alas, if 
    only she could.
Quite the woman~ a legend in her own 
     mind!
Writing poetry, in an imaginary land
of her own making.

In her magenta robe, sparkling adornments 
    in her hair and gold MaryJane shoes, as dainty as flowers!
Writing her soul poems by the hours.
Cannot forget her paramours!

Listening to the music of Antonio Carlos
Jobim, total heaven!
Enjoying her freedom and ever so blessed!
A Princess~ ruling in a land all her own
      smiling with flowers.

Her hand, with the giant moonstone
ring from Peru,
Her passion for all things turquoise,
    jade or Santorini blue
Her head, never stuck in things practical.
Just flies in all directions,never pedantic.
Purely, romantic or totally magical.

Thus~ is her setting for writing poetry,
She cherishes your comments in this
    land of the free!
We roaming souls connecting by things so
    ecstatic~
This is so very joyous and totally 
     far from all things tragic.


Panagiota Romios
3/24/2019
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