It was a
shock to see it there
my old pal
hanging
on a for sale rack in the charity shop
fingered and
flicked by any passer- by.
I thought
of cattle marts
and felt a
pang of guilt
given that
I was the one
who ultimately
put it there
Relegating
it to the has-been pile:
a large
plastic Homestore and More bag
you know
the type
you probably
have one
But that
was months ago
and I hadn’t
expected to see it again…
There must
be a backlog of applicants,
like the
one for driver permits,
Necessitating
long waits in limbo
before reaching
the processing stage.
The dress
had been given a good makeover
I’ll say
that for the women who managed its transition-
For there
it was like a magician conjuring up
mis-spent summers,
flouncing and flirting along sandy
shores and
barbeque soirées
its burgundy
folds kissing youthful limbs
And therein
lies the rub and to misquote Houseman,
For of my threescore years and ten
Sixty- nine
will never come again.
I was doing
the dress a favour- really-
But still I
felt the pang of guilt
remorse,
regret, even grief
so much so
that I went and bought it back....
Copyright 2023 Cathy Leonard All rights reserved.
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