Well Suited

Bedspreads, sheets; all washed and folded,
lay stacked neatly at the end of the bed.
Clothes, sorted into type and season
for the benefit of 'Oxfam' or the 'Cancer Shop'
but not yet...not yet.
I watch as she pulls a suit from the wardrobe,
there is a blouse, almost hidden, inside.
She sniffs the blouse, eyes closed and then
holds it tightly to her, breathing deeply.
Holding it at arms length, she stares at it.
With a sniff and a multiple blink, she sighs,
replaces it and closes the door – locking it.
Turning to me she states firmly and yet
almost enquiringly;
'I'm keeping that one!'
'Good, I find myself almost whispering,
I think you should.'