Miss Dior

Her favourite was Dior.
Watercolours drip on a baby canvas
The glossy Vogue advertisement reincarnate
Similar, but I knew the difference.

It feels like flying,
The brush strokes danced creating colour,
Across the Parisienne skyline

Or is it more like floating?
Delicate fingers enlace the ribbon of future,
Grasping tightly to what could be,
Desperate for the journey to continue.

The ribbons of a rainbow,
Pastels intertwine with colorful latex,
A bouquet of balloons.

Her favourite is Dior.
Together they travelled the English Channel,
Soaring above the skylines of Europe,
They await excitement in the City of Light.


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