(Poem 182 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

No one has ever felt as
beautiful as a little girl
with fresh-made puffs.

Her frilly pale pink dress
with shiny shoes and high-
on-the-head earmuffs

are absolutely perfect
for a family wedding she
must attend in a while.

Her little brother in shirt
and vest gets to carry rings
as the bearer down the aisle,

but you can’t tell her a thing;
she’s not in the party but  
might as well be the bride,

for the joy she feels looking
like the belle of the ball makes
her little soul swell with pride.

@Home Studio – 182^nd poem of the year