We roll out of retirement beds,
rifle through closets,
past suits and silk blouses,
ties and button-down shirts,
suits sporting little hanger creases
and dust ridges, stored relics for
holidays, occasions, whatever comes along.

We grab at blue jeans or chinos’ soft worn
forgiving waists, washed and rewashed,
comforting and familiar, perfect for
reading, writing poems, walking in the park,
committee work, tending grandkids, visiting friends.

We have no desire to shop,
to achieve those illusive goals of being
well dressed, put together, confident,
which, surprisingly, is how we feel
every day now, really, every day.


© by Anita S. Pulier.
Used with the author’s permission