Wardrobe Mistress

I stood in front of the wardrobe

we shared and stared and stared.

I had just seen her with overalls down

below her knees, your familiar bare bum

tensed. It’s thrusting only previously

seen in awkward twisted mirror-glimpses.

Your shirts and tees hung between pink

bright lime, purple, olives, shady greens

of twirling gypsy skirts. My bohemian

scarves draped over one of your two suits;

70’s-wedding brown and grey work-familiar.

There’s nothing I recognize now. No, no

clothing will suit or fit my new body, the

slimmed down me. So I’ll leave the large

wardrobe jammed with memories of lilac picnics,

winter barbecues, summer crocheted maternity

smocks… the shirt I hand-made for our first

anniversary and leave the idea of kisses…

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2000 

1st published on my Blog:  http://francesmacaulayforde.wordpress.com/2014/02/15/when-love-left/