Four Ghosts and Fashion Week

I love runways and bangles and color and clothes.
With a sheet and two holes, I was ghastly not Vogue.
Is that Angel and Adalyn, Ava and Mags?
All in sheets and translucent, how stunning, how Fab!

One in front, on the left, on the right, one behind,
I am grabbed. Then we fly. This is blowing my mind.
Far below, Mom is handing out chocolate-nut bars
fruity Skittles and Twix, while I’m destined for Mars.

I must think really fast. With a loud mournful sigh,
I say, “Certainly fashion has bid you goodbye.
Your pale hue needs some blue, and your aura is plain.
Don’t despair. I can help. With my skills you will reign.”

To the first, I accessorize adding a hat,
then a glimmering belt, padded bra, she’s so flat.
To the second, a skirt, and a jacket with frills.
Would it be too cliché, can I say that she kills?

With a trench, and a pout, number three is Sam Spade.
With the fourth, I go goth, a black sheet, she’s decayed.
Transformations complete. I go home. My dad’s mad.
I’m so grounded. But hey, that’s okay, cause I’m rad.

©Kidd Wadsworth