Clearing Out the Wardrobe

I was ruthless –

didn't want to keep

an empty shrine

of all your clothes

without you in them;

made the choice not

to open the cupboard,

look at them and cry.

I put them in a collection bag

I knew would be taken

far out of town, away 

from local op-shops

and the chance I might see

someone else wearing them –

even a whole lot of someones,

none of whom would be you.

I wanted them out of the house.

You were still here, lingering

in every room, walking

along the passage, sitting

at your desk in front of the computer

or in your favourite armchair.

I didn't need or desire 

physical reminders, I thought.

Of course I was too hasty.

Grieving, I caught a cold,

put myself, sneezing, to bed.

A bed without you in it

to cuddle and warm me.

I curled in a ball anyway –

but how I wished I could wrap myself

in your old green flannel pyjama jacket.

Written for Sanaa's inaugural prompt for day 19 of April Poetry Month at 'imaginary garden with real toads': to write about love, using a common everyday image.