Friday's Night Swing Dress

Day 17

Prompt: Write a swing poem.

Friday’s Night Swing Dress

In my birthday suit,
in fitting room number three,
my back was to the mirror.
I sighed then prayed that this
hourglass figure of mine would
break into that broken sunburst
print of a dress with elegance.
I touched, then admired the beauty
and freedom that collaborated with
its vintage, silky, and pleated all-over trapeze style.

Quickly, I separated the dress from
its home of a hanger and oscillation
and pulled it over my head.
I welcomed the raspberry V-neck area to assume its position,
permissioned gravity to invite a free fall in
coral to color my waistline until raspberry
reunited with my knee caps
and dipped in the back to kiss my calves.  

In a second, I became an axis to this frock and
turned 360 to face the mirror.
I sashayed one time.
I posed one time.
And cha-cha twice to hear it  
swoosh, swoosh, and swoosh again
as I swung my hips
and said yes to the dress!




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