She always been bright and young, the woman who dressed in yellow, and wearing her infamous white classy hat, in a high heal glass slippers made in cherry wine of orange, her purse should be colorful then pink, admitted wear some antique eyeglasses, her brunette hair turns out straightly in style, she'd wanted to walk perfectly on the big town sidewalks herself alone, she felt the western wind beauteously, she found the easygoing bench with her name on it charming indeed, she brings out her inglorious New York newspaper in hand lightly, she overheard the birds were echoed unsweetened sound, Mrs. Angel Whitman's path can be dreamy and kind
Written by
Michael James Brindley
1-8-19
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