I remember her red dress,
Of how when night came its thin straps slipped over her thinner shoulders
Falling slowly into a wrinkled circle on my floor.
I remember her seeing me seeing her put it on
She stood in front of our ice curtained window the next morning
And even though that dress was too short for autumn she would wear it anyway.
I think it was because she knew it drove me crazy.
I remember she would hide it underneath her long winter sweater
Like she was keeping safe a secret that was only just for me.
When she put on that sweater the light from the dawn
Would sneak out through the tiny holes in the fabric
It would look like sun-ray freckles kissing her skin
Her pale and previously unmarked body.
She pulled it over her head ever so slowly.
The leisurely motion in some way made me image a 9 year old boy
Who I imagine for the first time that winter hesitated
To pull but his snow boots over thickly crocheted Christmas socks.  
His feet look like her head in some way.
Both are somewhat unwilling to slide into warmer weather clothes
Both hiding a secret heating joy.