I spend my morning time
by a line of hanging garments;
fingering textures
which allow my hands
to deftly feel softness
still accessible
beneath layers
of practical material.

My fingers loop through
swirls of Battenberg lace,
glide over mossy velvet,
entwine within the confines
of another centurys
finest feminine apparel.

I select the garment
closest to the front view.

Before dressing for daytime,
I close the tiny pearl buttons
of a beribboned bodice,
lacy foundations
close to my own heart.

Then, arms through crisp sleeves
of my khaki safari uniform,
I dress for my day
of pandering to the public's desires.
A lady-in-waiting
in twentieth century Dacron

Author: Diane Funston

Photo: Latrach Med Jamil on Unsplash

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