Dress Up
Purgatory;
a musty closet with
the stale scent of cedar chips
at the bottom.
The scents of a home that remind you -
this is a family of four now.
A fractured fraction that tears your world apart.
A coat is hanging,
Daddy's coat,
still many sizes too big.
Tan corduroy
but layered like a quilt parade.
The warmth of a lifetime,
with leather-covered wooden buttons
bobbling against loosened stitches.
This coat has always been in my life,
my Daddy's winter coat next to
Mumma's red trenchcoat,
The coat reserved only for going to church in the springtime,
when rosaries were stuck in the pockets for her children,
and hand-in-hand we'd approach stained-glass edifices.
Verdant lush mornings, where she kneeled on the pew in prayer
and I looked up the days' hymns,
in a room whose oppressive silence and stonework could intimidate a child;
that coat was a splash of color,
Making her a part of the stained glass that was sitting right next to me.
The start of a day that would be filled with grass stains upon Osh Kosh B'Gosh,
gotten from sliding on the ground that was not quite dried out from morning drizzles,
a day spent resisting picking the tulips that matched a mother's coat.
We'd come back home,
The red trenchcoat would come back home to the fuzzy cordoroy,
Brisk spring rejoining the not long forgotten New England March.
Married once more, invisible hands holding, invisible youthful lovers pulling on each others' pockets.
Two coats placed back inside a closet with the faint woody attar that brings up antecedents.
The knowledge of loss, numerical or otherwise, cannot tear away my memories.
I am a little girl playing dress-up in my past, adorning my future with the love they have shown me.






Laura,I can picture this all so perfectly.I know the coat you speak of. You painted a picture with words.It is perfect.I love it.
Love you too,Deb
Deb115
Just beautiful, I can see it all so clearly. What a wonderful thing to remember... Hold them close to your heart my dear.
IC2Much
i hate no idea you were such a gifted writer. this is a wonderous and beautiful poem. Proust's Rememberance of Things Past, is no more beautiful than what you have written.
Sooo
opps i mean .... i HAD no idea.
Sooo
oh wow,that was so touching,take care chick xoxoox
emotionallystunted
we forget how small things like the smell and feel of a coat is a comforting memory that lasts a lifetime, but people like you remind us
yumorion
Wow... this poem is beautiful I love it. ***hugs***
DaisyYellie
You certainly DO have a gift with words, Laura. I too can see the coats clearly, and can almost smell the memories you've so beautifully shared. It's hard. Life is hard. And you're right: nothing can ever prepare you for the "next time." It's all part of the cycle of life. You are a strong girl, truly in touch with your brilliant spirit. I really admire you.
Slimpics
Oh sweetie! That was so wonderful! You really should write a book of poems. Have you ever submitted any to a web site for poetry? I know you would win for sure. It takes so much courage to open your heart like this. You are one strong woman. I admire you so...
LunarAngel