She cross-stitches across jacket pocket rocks,
to a sea of pantsuit green.
Lapping over lapel shores,
as pant legs billow in the breeze.
She lies upon white lining sands,
admiring the colors of pantsuit land.
And carried over the seamless sea,
a double-stitch speech of Hillary.
I woke up from a dream early this morning where the landscape was made of pantsuits. Tweeds, greys, and tans were rocks and sand. Blues, greens and whites were the ocean.
Hillary was standing on a podium somewhere in her bright orange pantsuit giving a sarcastic, Da Da speech. Her voice was carried though-out the land by the wind.
Ah, ya think I'm on pantsuit over-load?