My feet beat a rhythm across the Shopping Arcade floors, <br />and in through the swinging doors. <br />Up speeding lifts, to counters packed with attractive goods <br />and gifts. <br /> <br />Now, making straight for the place where there is glamour <br />for the face, one spies lipsticks by the score, so many <br />shades that one cannot but adore. <br />I must buy more. <br /> <br />That concealing blemish cream which smoothes on like a dream, <br />Is a must. They still stock it, I trust. <br /> <br />Eyebrow pencil in colour ‘blonde’, which just has to be donned, <br />and mascara in black. <br />I think I’m on the right track. <br /> <br />Some shadow for the eyes too, in gold, brown, silver, or blue. <br />It’s so reflective and so effective. <br /> <br />My countenance is now furnished and burnished. Such finesse. <br />And now I have to confess, that I am ready <br />to launch a new me, with a new philosophy. <br /> <br />So with my shopping complete, my feet retreat and beat <br />a rhythm across the Shopping Arcade floors, <br />and out through the swinging doors. <br /> <br /> <br />© Ernestine Northover<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/furnished-and-burnished/
