A small clearing in the woods gives way,
An aged well, tall and proud it’s rocks decay.
An ocean’s worth of tales it shares,
Lost lovers wishes, many a truth’s burden bared.
Near the surface the structures age well shows,
Gone are times of gathering and dipping of toes.
Now only bitter wind blows through the cracks,
A phantom chatter of laughter reveals only black.
The rocks seem to whisper of time long dead,
A tunnel’s worth of secrets with no room to spread.
Listen closely and you will hear,
Raw emotion, weathered by love, loss, and fear.
Poor lonely well in the woods,
One hundred lifetimes worth of wisdom to share if it only could!
Forever alone, an idol lost in the past,
Time is its misfortune, and forever it will last.
Most of the time I feel rather ambivalent over “model-style”, finding it all to be slightly redundant and not pertinent to my personal style. This was all until I met Frida…
Okay, so I haven’t “met” Frida so to speak, but I have admired her from afar for quite some time! If I was to meet her this is what I would say;
Your ensembles make me wanna be ya.
The always stunning mix of classic and trendy,
So much inspiration, my mind is a little bendy.
I believe we are style twins separated at birth,
One more fashion week’s worth of outfits will put me in a hearse.
Your wannabe friend and slightly creepy admirer,