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.