Wind swept

Strong winds blew in today.

They tore my wardrobe doors open

and a whirlwind plucked at the hangers

and strew my clothes across the floor.

Holey jumpers, ill-advised buys,

shrunken and marked garments,

bad bargains,

the faded, torn and aged

the unworn and the forlorn,

all in a storm

bundled and crammed into

waiting charity bags,

and before there was any chance of

rescuing them,

swept out of the house

never to be seen again.

A few things escaped the maelstrom

and as the winds died down,

looked, even, slightly refreshed;

ready for their moment in the sun.

A gale forced decision was made,

as I once again struggled to find anything to wear

in a wardrobe full of clothes.

I am a reluctant shopper,

with a hard-to-dress lifestyle

in a hard-to-place age group.

This morning I recognised the truth 

of the well meant advice:

that if you haven't worn it for a year

(or in my case more likely ten years)

you aren't going to wear it today or any other day.

It masquerades as a real outfit,

freighted with unhelpful reasons for a reprieve,

such as Wasteful, Will fit one day,

Worn once, Well loved but worn out.

My wardrobe is purged

but there is another cupboard that holds tightly

things I know full well I will never wear again:

my wedding dress, my back to work jacket size 8,

my vintage dresses, my Liberty rose shirt,

my Chinese silk jacket from Art College,

an Indian sari coat,

a velvet evening cloak,

my school Panama hat.

 It would take a hurricane to empty that

and no hurricanes have been forecast.