The brides dress.

I am not born, yet born of dreams,
Made of finest fabric, to cover your body, once
I have a story to tell about me,
But I have sworn not to tell, that is a balance.

Is a dress Trustworthy?
Yes, I am, I reveal a lot but covers more,
I show you as you like to be and a bit better,
In me I am tradition and something new.

The fabric is from India and China,
The needles is from Germany,
My design, is your idea, I think,
Or maybe not, but I am a dream to wear.

I giggle, because I am thinking about tomorrow,
Will you fill me out; you gave me much space,
For your tiny breast, okay you cheat a bit, I would,
I reveal no secret to say I am not white, nor black.

I blush to think and tell about the next,
You tried me on today, together with the lingerie,
Oh, that is some tiny thing you have chosen there,
Woman is you mad or do you want to freeze?

I know what he thinks right now this night,
He dreams about your skin meeting the blue color.
The magic works on him, and he doesn't have a clue,
But even I am only a dress I hope he likes me too.

Back to my story, still without telling too much,
I am soft like silk on the inside, outside I am cut in shape,
Delicate fabric is my skin; small tailored stings hold me,
I feel perfect; I hold my laces not to crack in smiles...