They gather round the pool for a glass of wine—
their voices soft as butter with a continental whine.
Their conversation heady. She’s finally arrived,
running from that castoff life that she barely survived.
She changes personalities according to her whim.
She became a baroness the moment she met him.
Tonight in the wine bar, perhaps she’ll be a waif.
In such low localities, a title isn’t safe.
The fantasies of childhood have certainly paid off.
One day she is a Renoir, the next she’s a Van Gogh.
One face follows another with a costume change.
Her various identities show an extensive range.
Being so many people is her brand of fun.
You’d call her a chameleon if you knew more than one.
But she is very careful. One identity per friend.
She saves her next identity for those met round the bend.
Prompt words today are butter, heady, glass, pool.*This poem was not written about the girl in the photo. I love this photo I took of my niece and although I felt the image worked to illustrate the poem, it is not illustrative of her personality.