I watched her drape it
So gracefully
Around her delicate frame
All six yards
Of colourful cotton
That had stood the test of time
Her fingers moved
Deftly forming many pleats
Which she tucked
Into a long ankle length skirt
Then flipping one end
Over her left shoulder she stopped
To glance at herself
In a small cracked hand mirror
The village girl was ready
To start her long and arduous day
