PROUD, she was, the previous grande dame of the social scene, though most would whisper behind their hands as she passed by. “FADED,” they would say. “Frail,” they would murmur. Her posture upright, she wielded her cane more as an accessory than as a necessity. She could still part a crowd as surely as Moses did the Red Sea, walking smartly, if a bit more slowly across a hotel lobby or ballroom. The general consensus was that it would take more than age to ADDLE her. Truth be told, the looks she garnered as she swept toward her SEDAN revealed the continued high regard -or was it envy? – in which she was held by the crème de la crème.

Georg’ann

Words are like wine
some so luscious and evocative,
the mouth delights in them,
Lips shape their passage out as the breath carries them forward
Others brash, hard, bitter, repugnant.
Spit them out quickly.
The entire face wants to wince, recoil even as it sends the word forward.

Then comes the fine art of pairing,
Layers of interplay
Rhymes and alliteration
what makes it fun to say
“I don’t mean to brag, I don’t mean to BOAST but I like hot butter on my breakfast toast.”

She sells sea shells by the sea shore;
She has a SANDY SEDAN.

Heather