My Sage Green Robe Poem by Ernestine Northover
My Sage Green Robe
I sit on my bed, and look across at my sage green towelling robe,
hanging on the back of the bedroom door.
Does he still 'fancy' me,
when I'm wearing it,
probably not,
it's not 'sexy', rather 'frumpy' really,
not at all an 'exciting' piece of clothing.
A dowdy bird,
dowdy and unheard!
I think that's me!
A 'new' me, must emerge from that robe.
A butterfly from a chrysalis,
A rose from a bud.
I think I need an overhaul, and a new 'robe',
like you see the 'famous' wearing,
in their 'penthouses'.
A glorious creation of satin and silk,
like flowing cream and milk.
Mind you, my towelling robe, hangs next to his towelling robe,
so perhaps we will do the same, and remain side by side,
and perhaps he loves me for other things than just being,
glamorous.
Hanging there, they look at peace with each other,
so I think I'll stick with my sage green towelling robe,
it cuddles me, just like he does!
© Ernestine Northover
Oh........I think this is such a sweet poem! I bet he loves you in or out of that old robe! I'll confess, I'm a flannel pajama junkie! I wear flannel pj's ALL the time! I probably have 10 pairs. (Hey, it's Michigan wintertime!) wonderful poem Ernestine. Sincerely, Mary
I'm sure you would always bloom into a beautiful butterfly. Great poem. Love, Andrew x
To be able to warm each other inside out and beyond a material impression , And when you realize the quality of your garments you know that the closeness is worth so much more than their appearance, Wonderful write, Love Duncan
This is a fabulous read, Ernestine. Each and every one of us frets about losing our lover's favor every now and then, and this piece voices those fears masterfully. Well done, and he'd better know what he's got in you! I'm able to see your beautiful spirit and tender heart way over here in Boise, Idaho.; -) Shannon
If this is an example of your work I will read more. This gave not only a grin but a sigh. Rusty
This is really nice, and I'm glad you stuck with the green robe! Moyaxx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/1/2024 3:03:58 PM # 1.0.0.1119
a little spice never hurt though, Ernestine....a tshirt and nothing else....something frilly, lacy underneath the green robe....then.....just pounce on him...