By 1959 the only labels that she wore all said drip dry,
but as I peered through the sliding pocket door
into her master bedroom, there was Mom
holding against her slip a satin blue Coco Chanel.
She smiled in the floor length mirror\ I swear that dress smiled too.

Instinctively, I knew there must have been a time,
when that dress could tell a story that would be sensational.
Then she sighed, re-folded it and replaced it in the cedar chest.
Clothes are always designed for the young, and
unless it's worn, a dress has no life of its own.