CATWALK

Ritualised gathering of connoiseurs,

Also feast for the x-ray eyes of voyeurs,

Spotlit parade of snazzy pulchritude,

They catwalked with lots of attitude. 

" Haute couture" they can't dream to buy,

Donning them, provoking jealous sigh,

Curvy bombshells, grumpy expressions,

Strut fashion runway to create impressions.

Those girls get to display top brands,

Gucci, Prada and Burberry, so grand,

A knee length flowery designer frock,

Trendy attire that make them rock.

Tennis skirts or skimpy gym shorts,

They flow in the rhythm of all sorts,

Bold patterns depicting bohemianism,

Or a demure couture capturing orientalism.

Jumpsuits and sleeveless shirts,

"Victoria's Secret" lingerie to flirt,

Sometimes in only bras and panties,

Showing flawless figure in scanty.

A gorgeous blonde when it is morning,

A sultry brunette in dusky evening,

At night, hair goes silvery white,

With wigs of sorts, shining and bright.

Exhibitionism or exhibiting fashion?

It is difficult to tell what ignites passion,

Call it vulgar mathematics of marketing,

But these catwalkers are simply sparkling.

© K. Radhakrishnan