Party Frocks (Poetry)

They started out pale patterns
gauzy shapes laid on the carpet
full of pins and tacking cotton
wing-like nylon flocked with flowers
lilacs pinks and china blue
and once a drift of lemon.

They rustled I remember
perfect bows tied to attention
short sleeves puffed
stiff pastel bubbles
standing proud of skinny arms.

Skirts billowing a fabric sea
smooth inner shells of taffeta
felt cool. Deep thrifty three inch hems
measuring the months between
christmasses and birthday teas
and the way young legs grew long...

Mother made two at a time
identical except for size
the smaller one intended for
a distant cousin who I met
just once in childhood’s party span.

And afterwards we kept in touch
she sent a snap from Canada
a blonde-haired head against the snow
of more than fifty years ago.

I don’t know what she looks like now
the links we had we soon outgrew
(both friends and clothes) and yet
she shares a memory or two
recalls those homemade party frocks.