At lunch you have cherry red, red, red,
and a grin from ear to ear,
with pale pink blush-bright cheeks
brass nails, tall heels, long feet.

At tea you’re more burrrrrgundy,
a rattle-tat-tattle of words,
thoughts, fears,

At dinner you’re my auburn queen,
swooning lady of el-e-gance,
heaving breast and best dressed Bess,
Dancing shoes on silverware.

The late-night evening, you’re a blonde,
Glowing idle sun in moon-time night.
A full lip, low lid eyes and
A teasing twist of hips.

The morn will dawn
On deep, dark black. The sun will
glow across your tan, peach breast and skin,
And birds will sing to see- your hair.

Danielle K. Day


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