Men are like dresses, on you put the best, she said
I’m measuring its size, using you to test
I watched her work on a fashion portrait for me
Of material she took her time choosing the best quality
She took her time making the best fit
She locked eyes on the strings and drew them to her bosom
She laid the silk and velvet swabs on her breasts
And as the material lay breathless on her chest
She evened out a crease, and sealed a seam
The material was an acolyte under her caress
Manipulated to any shape and feel she desired
With her divine skill it became what she aspired
A shift dress, an empire waist baby doll dress, or a little black dress
When I was five, I watched a seamstress make me a dress
Men are like dresses, on you put the best, she said
Some men are like an empire waist baby doll dress that flares at the bottom
Eager to hug the bust line, the wrong cut can suffocate the heart
Whichever way you allow the wind to blow it between your legs it’ll start
With a peek, then a touch, it’ll even dance before it flares away
Some men are like peplum shift dresses
They leave something to the imagination as they hide your flaws
You’ll soon outgrow them; don’t fret when they fall short and become too small
Everything ends, even dresses can’t help being finite
But some men are like Little Black Dresses
Full of class and simple sense, it’s loved by your mammas
Every girl should have at least one for its timelessness
It lets a woman exude beautiful power and loves her forever
When I was five, I watched a seamstress make me a dress
Men are like dresses, on you put the best, she said.
By Andiswa Onke Maqutu (South Africa)
pic source : www.google.com
No comments:
Post a Comment