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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Saturday, April 6, 2013

Little Black Dress





Here’s to the life of the little black dress
Let’s take a moment to pray
For the sheath served well when, I confess,
I weighed so much less than today.
Its hemline fell just above my knees
In the back was a flirty slit
The drape was divine, an elegant ease
But now it just doesn’t fit.
The zipper won’t budge above my bum
It shows my muffin top
The chest’s so tight that I feel numb
The seams are ready to pop.
So now I sadly lay to rest
My dress for its last gig
In a bigger black dress I must invest
For I’ve grown a bit zaftig!

submitted for napowrimo, Day 6, Valediction