She picks among discarded frocks,
Old clothes found in the dress-up box,
And laughs at what may well provide,
Makings of a princess or bride.
Boas, sequins, a joyous game,
Of what hangs off her tiny frame,
As you look on quite bemused,
She clomps around in high heeled shoes.
You think of how it is so sweet,
Barely they stay on her feet,
‘Til that day that she walks in,
And so innocently grins.
Seeing that she has created,
An outfit so coordinated,
And incredulous you’re staring,
At attire you would not mind wearing.
Sexy, subtle, innovative,
Simple yet sophisticated,
Envy the look she put together,
And rue the day she wore it better.