The Dress

by joetwo

As I walk along the street

Busy on my multitude of errands

I pass the Oxfam shop

Filled with clothes and assorted tat

And one thing that surprises me

In the window display

Arranged on a mannequin

A wedding dress, immaculately white

Perfection in silk

I cannot help but wonder what is the story of that dress

Why was it abandoned?

Was it used then disposed of?

Sentimental value soft currency when space is at a premium

What memories does it have?

Are they good? Are some bad?

But of course it will not tell me

It is just a dress

Yet filled with mystery

Unspoken stories in the fabric