Finished with Fragile

When I am finished being fragile,
on the longest days
when I make it to twilight
with my pride unbruised
and my hands happy
for all their hard work,

take me aside and show me how to
card my wiry hair like a woman might,
gather the wavy locks between fingers
and smile,

and add a flounce
to my step or to the color
of my blouse
and I will blush
at how pretty I might feel.

Dare me to dance;
twirl like a twister,
or sway slowly,

ask me gently
to consider the word cavort
at a party or cafe

I just might
find my way
on a path to the beach
where I will
slowly wash away
with the tide,
the moon,
and the fading
of all this glorious
light.