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,
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