The clock is ticking
Oh woman, the red dress
The one I started at nine, finished at four
Worshipped you at the changing rooms
Went the extra mile for the matching bag
Why do you keep me waiting
Oh woman, I stare in awe
You walk downstairs
Not in red, but black
With matching  bag
Like that was the way it was supposed to be
It then hit me
Slowly at first
Then the light shone through
That cataclysmic moment shook my entire being
Not realising the enormity of my find
I could see my face in Time magazine
Bold letters capturing the readers around the breakfast table
On billboards, buses passing by
The world would know
The red dress
The reason men go off to war.