You were blue, and bright and wonderful
With silly little pink spots, that I can only
Suppose were imitations of some greater stones,
And frills I could swirl around in,
Now that swirling's become my thing.
I did think about your worth then,
But didn't question it as I should have
Because I was otherwise inclined and
You were, by far, the best we'd seen;
Not absolutely brilliant, yet quite likeable.
So who'd have thought, you'd cost me
A thousand rupees and much more,
In terms of tumbling emotions?
And with this in mind, with you and
Your layers of carelessly sewn cotton,
Commanding for yourselves much too much
Attention, I finally concluded
That a skirt, no matter what,
Must always remain a skirt.