LITTLE BLACK DRESS

 

She’d squeezed herself into a little dress

that had been skimped on to impress –

not quite blatant, but distinctly tight;

enough, she’d hoped, to tempt a Mr. Right

to ask her on a second date.

 

And though he’d left it worryingly late,

and Ibsen had not been a lot of fun,

she knew at dinner that he was The One

who would not laugh unkindly if, during treacle tart,

she quietly picked one agonising seam apart.