The old party dress

The moon is mauve like my old party dress
I wore it with  the shoes of purple pink
And silver like the tongues of  merchants blessed

I love you more and more,not less and less
I don’t know how or what you think
The moon is mauve like my old party dress

And yet I’m loth to boundaries transgress,
Even when we view each other’s  strenuous blinks
Is silver like the tongues of  angels  stressed?

I have  garments,radiant, diverse
From red and purple  to a  bluish pink.
The moon is mauve like my old tarty dress

In   my bed, I wear a  woollen vest
A man’s pyjamas and a mother’s wink.
My father sang so well ,I dreamed impressed

My pen is  running out of  golden ink
The queue in Ryman’s left a  quadrilateral blanked
The moon is mauve like my old tarty dress,
And silver like the tongues of  rakes bypassed