I look before me now and I see a velvet dress . I will wear this dress and it will wear me.
It is of fine cotton and of heavenly transparent cloth's that lash from the waste down giving it
an angelic look almost weightless . Feeling as if it could dance with the winds melody .
It is tightly fit from the waste up.It is strapless. Latching on with strings that sparkle with silver dashes.
By the side sleeps a flower brooch ,softly,as if too caring to tear a string or cause a hole.
It is laid upon there as if put there gently and with precise measurement.
It is the most beautiful piece of the dress and yet to the human eye looks as if it could be easily
stripped from the warmth of the dress or simply fly off to its desire. That is the magic of the flower.
Its beauty is like no other , its tenderness is like that of a baby’s smile, it looks so fragile. But it is misunderstood.For how could something so tender and beautiful be capable of possessing such a masculine trait such as that of unrecognizable strength?
And I wanted to prove to all that there is such a thing.
For one could never judge a book by its cover but by reading the story laid upon it by its creator . Those who are true readers will see the special in each book . And as souls on this planet we are the writers of our own book .In which we write our past , present, and future depending on our actions.
And I have yet to begin my first chapter but I am a thief in the art of disguise , for my cover I have learned to portray well.
Our life’s are our book, our body’s are our cover.
