They were so beautiful
As the title implies
So perfectly gentle and flowy; as tangible
as air
I remember my sister trying on hers before
It fit miserably and crawled up the spine of her back
In jagged seams and it was the most awful shade of yellow
But here there were dresses of the most beautiful hues
Dresses that looked like the wings of a
canary, or the smile of a marigold

They were all so gorgeous; the lace cascaded from jeweled hips
And nervous hands in silk gloves creased and uncreased golden napkins
Men-boys stood nearby, smiling deviously and stuffing cream between their fat lips
And watched, idle, out of clouded windows.
I stood on the balcony and felt almost as airy as the tulle petticoats
Which caught the air beneath their wings and flew away
I wished I could fly away and join them in their merriment
Or at least in the joyful facade they put on, like how they flipped the fans in front of their face
Which seemed so mysterious and seductive to the men-boys
But to be honest, the men-boys didn't
really care.
They were much too interested in the
mockingbirds outside.