Poetry: one I’m reluctant to share

The dress

 

Wet feet on the mat

cool air meets warm skin

clean fingers touch glass

draw a face with a grin.

 

In soft cotton blanket

she turns with a stare

the dress she laid out

hanging over a chair.

 

She wanted to wear it

she knew that she must

yet memories float

all around it like dust.

 

Was she excited?

Her heart beat thought so…

or is this just dread?

How can her body know?

 

And would it be wrong

to wear it like this?

Once worn for goodbye

now with hopes for a kiss?

 

It looked different now

with no tears in her eyes

the bright coloured flowers

tell their happy lies.

 

No, they’d never meet,

but he could be it…

the dress must decide

whether it’s the right fit.

 

So, heart missing her,

slips it on to meet him.

She looks at the glass

and she puts on the grin.

 

The Dress, BM- 10/03/18 

 

As always, any feedback and thoughts are appreciated. I am especially curious to see any reactions to this particular poem as it has a very special place in my heart when I think about my ‘writing journey’, for lack of a less cheesy phrase 😜

Thanks for taking the time to read 💙

instagram: scripteddaydreams