The Red Dress She gently stitches the final layer of red lace on the cuff of the sleeve. Adds more velvet covered buttons on the back. Runs her fingers along the curves of the skin-soft fabric. Smiling, she imagines the voluptuous shadow, the mannequin sprays on her workshop floor, has a handsome dance partner who takes her hand as they saunter to the secluded garden. Spinning her as she careens in golden sandals, he steals a kiss between their gliding rhythmic steps. Mistletoe berries and the red fabric glow with the light of the moon, creating an iridescent carpet of brightness. The humbled trees hide in faded clothing of shyness. She sews one last button. Her delicate creation is placed with pride in the tiny shop window. Like a red traffic light, it pauses the rushing evening Christmas shoppers on the narrow cobbled street. To dream and wish and blush. Yvonne Brewer lives in ...
Women's Spiritual Poetry