And every day
that the sun still rose,
and some days
were unexpected,
she took the dress
and put it on
as if it pulled
back the years,
as if her skin again
was taunt,
as if her hair again
was blonde,
as if her friends again
were there.
And in the dress
she walked the streets,
in her simple little dress
with flowers in hand
she walked to him,
with lipstick
licking lips
no longer there,
and when she found him
she took a seat
by the earth
under which he lay
and knew he smiled
at her on high
still a beauty
in the dress,
in that little black dress
he had bought her
on one fine day.
All Words and Drawings by Damien B. Donnelly
Audio version available on Soundcloud;
Damien B. Donnelly 
Ah, yes, there is something special about a woman in a little black dress . . . Beautifully written, Damien . . .
Thank you so Peter. Best wishes from The Emerald Isle
Poignant and delicate. Lovely, in other words 🙂
Thank you my dear- I have thrown a wave out over the green fields for you xx
Reblogged this on By the Mighty Mumford and commented:
WELL-DONE STORY AND ENVISIONING!
Your poem fleshes out things the way my limerick about this subject never could. I love your premise and your description of same!…
Thanks Jonathan for reblogging and taking the tine to come by. Looking forward to checking out your site now
Beautiful!
Thanks Paula.