She has a standing invitation…alas
Hushed ‘neath the snow she sleeps
Listening to one last lullaby
Hoping for a little longer dream
Drowsy she is in her waking
Her dress? Well, she can’t quite decide
She’s thrown some things from her closet
Yet they all lay scattered beside
Back under her covers she scrambles
The pressure to dazzle is the worst!
Thinking through her accessories
Will she match these shoes with that purse?
Her date is growing impatiens….
Checking the seconds, minutes….days
Glancing at the door for signs she’s ready
Grumbling that he has to wait
No, Spring is in no hurry
She is not as anxious as her date
But if Spring will be late for the party,
Spring will be FASHIONABLY late.
That was a fun one :P I especially like the "growing impatiens" part...hehe! It's late...hopefully that will still be funny tomorrow. Writing poetry late at night is so dangerous. It always feels like a masterpiece, but.....
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