The Dress
My blue dress blows through wildflower fields, Kissing petal tips collecting pollen dust. I spread my arms wide Twirling twirling twirling. Oh sunshine, make me warm again wrapped up in My blue cotton dress. The white hem of my blue dress is made of the finest lace and there, along a picot edge, is a single loose and delicate thread. It catches On wildflower stems and petal tips and the lace begins to u n r a v e l on My blue cotton dress. I had hoped to dance all day and into the night in my little blue dress; but now it is ruined and so am I ? A single fickle thread has undone the prettiest bits of My blue cotton dress. I won't dance any more. Not just yet. I'll just lay down right here in this wildflower field in my imperfec