The black dress had a singular sound and feel,
the Audrey Hepburn dress, the clerk said, and it was sold.
A wide décolleté draped with a wavy collar framed my cleavage.
It wrapped around my ribcage like a baby's swaddling
pulled me in tight and feminine, the swishing skirt flared
to my calves with the urgency to twirl.
The rhinestones on the cuffs and swinging from my earlobes
matched the ones on my shoes and around my neck.
I opened my handbag to check on the two cotton handkerchiefs
I had been given, then I momentarily put my carefully made-up face
in my hands, but caught the tears before they marred my visage.
I moved down the aisle in a happy trance and sat down
to watch my son begin the life I had always dreamed for him.