A Thing of Bliss

It's her most precious possession Bordering on obsession, It fills her with pride As she walks she seems to glide As if on a bed of sunrise It goes with her every guise, A bare essential It causes her joy exponential, And with a snap of her fingers You'd think a flash mob of singers Would appear to convey How this is her way, The little things that make her Like a tiger is known for its fur But it may as well be her lure; Example of what she could procure From the very nothing of blue A flower; a necklace; a shoe, Extraordinary trimmings Assortment of playthings To make wonder and inquisition of her, But you should know for sure You'll never be for her this, A thing of cool; a thing of bliss...