Get Rid Of The Advertisements

That's Glamour?
 
Pretend advance,
observe at a glance,
her flock frock covered in grit.
Hem askew, unfit for pew
and sticky lipstick stained it.
She'd crept from the bog
into which she's sunk.
Too much from the jug
now sobbing and drunk.

By cherryk

© 2016 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 
This poem was written for the Ten Word Challenge,
10/10 Week*

This week's words:

Harvest - Equinox - Acorn - Foliage - Branches - Hues - Migration
- Growth - Frost - Gourd


* 10/10 Week - all ten words must be used in only ten
lines of verse.




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This Poem is part of a Challenge: Ten Word - 10/40 Week (challenge has been closed)


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