Prunella planned to get a dress,
Uncaring of design.
As long as it was purple hued,
She’d think it was divine.
She said that this one color was
Just what her heart desired.
She’d surely look like royalty,
So regally attired.
She thought, perhaps, she’d choose a tint
To make a lovely suit,
From pomegranates, raisins, plums,
And grapes or passion fruit.
Entranced by purple sunset scene,
And purple sunrise view,
She found that purple mountains were
A lovely color, too.
Then purple martins came to mind,
And finches caught her eye.
She knew with purple herons’ hue
She could not go awry.
She’d many favorite flower tones,
“Select me,” each would tease,
From lilacs, lilies, violets,
To blue anemones;
From springtime’s bright petunias,
To winter’s pretty pansies,
Plus asters, orchids, lavender—
So hard to choose from these!
“I can’t decide,” she told her Mom,
“Which purple is the best.
I can’t select just one of them
And leave out all the rest.”
“A more important choice,” said Mom,
“Than purple for a dress,
Is making sure your heart is right
And clothed in righteousness.”
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