Monday, 9 February 2015

Fox furs

I can imagine

Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont

dawning her fox fur stole

elegantly stepping out onto Kensington High Street.

 

Much the same as mum

would proudly wear

her chinchilla gloves

to church on winter Sunday mornings.

 

In the dressing up box

Auntie Jessie’s clothes from another era

would come out for another play

The crepe de chine cocktail dress -  navy with yellow orchids;

The Chinese silk -  bright red and gold;

and the furs.

 

My small hands would stroke each one in turn,

these soft, fusty comforters,

but only till I touched their feet, their face.

When I would stop,

wrap them in their white tissue paper shrouds

and ever so gently

return them to their suitcase.

 

© Sheila Ash 9th February 2015

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