Zemira

Oh Lord of Windows, 
Oh Window, 
Oh Mirror with Drawn Curtains,  

maybe if I keep tapping, 
keep drumming my fingers on your altar, 
you’ll wake up. Maybe 

The outfit I've chosen is past compare,

It matches right down to my underwear.

All who behold it break into song,

Their admiration is far from wrong.

I walk down the street to a chorus of praise,