My Black Dress
I asked for a dress
Full of dazzling sparkles;
I was fifteen and naïve,
To think, it wasn’t impossible!
To think I’d ask for a Princess dress,
With purple added to the tulle.
What a mistake I made—
Ripping open the gold paper,
Green Christmas trees painted
And a shining glitter red bow;
Thinking I’d get my wish
Of the perfect Princess dress.
Out of the box, the boring white,
Like snow and cold too,
I lift this thin-layered dress;
Black as coal, ugly as soot
With black sequence and wait!
Black flowers embroidered?
I let out a cry of disappointment—
I was fifteen and naïve.
That dress, now at twenty-two,
Is beloved—it slims and accentuates
The hills and slopes of womanhood—
How I love my little black dress
And my queenly dimpled face.