I hold an inexpensive bracelet
that goes with nothing I wear.
My mother never wore it,
could tell no story to give it value.
She told me I must keep it
(though it would only gather dust)
but it matches your dress,
looks bright against the darkness
of your hair. It is a gift.
It is worth more like this.
Previously published in Poetry Scotland
Clothes (and jewellery!) for Read Write Poem
Previous poems about clothes on this blog:
Coming of Age
and on Crafty Green Poet: