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