Most women,

I suspect,

wear one dress

(or two, perhaps)

that lingers in memory

as perfection,

gift wraps

a pearl,

one crystalline stitch

in time.

Mine

was white cotton,

gossamer-

with sleeveless bodice

of delicate pleats

tightly

cinched

at the waist,

cascading in gentle folds

to just below the knee.

Twirling before the mirror

I could find no fault

in my reflection-

a rarity, I dare say,

in the feminine psyche. 

Graduation day,

threshold to the time of milk and honey

and I was Aphrodite,

Cinderella,

cloaked in clarity

with one glass slipper atop

the translucent pattern

that paved the road ahead.

     ~~~~6/30/10