Dreams of Dress- Up

There’s the sound of children’s voices, and a creaking of the door,  

there’s excitement in the air, as they patter ‘cross the floor.

 

There’s a search among the various crates stacked against the wall, 

there’s a flurry of delight as they bring them in the hall.            

 

There’s a dusting off of covers, and a sneeze or two,

there’s a group of eager children round the box of blue.

 

There’s a peeling off of lids and expectant eyes,

there’s a million ooohhhs and aaahhhs as they’ve fin’lly found their prize.

 

Here's a pretty pink dress with a silvery sheen,

here’s an odd purple shoe and a hat of green.

 

Here’ s pair of broken glasses, and a walking cane,

here’s the black and white dress with the tomato sauce stain.

 

Here’s a sergeant’s cap and his vest as well,

here’s set of high heels, littles think so swell,

 

Here’s a dozen varied wigs of brown, white, and red,

here’s a golden circlet crown for a prince’s head.

 

Here’s a pair of overalls, and the other purple shoe,

and a box of paints and powders in countless pretty hues.

 

Look! It’s the lovely dress Grandma used to wear,

Shiny pins and clips; the bow from Sister’s hair.

 

Look it’s Brother’s costume that he wore for that play,

and the silky white dress that Mama made one day.

 

Look it’s Dad’s name tag he used to wear to work,

and the clown’s wig and nose that he used at church.

 

Look, it’s the woven shawls we bought at that sale,

and the dress with shoulder pads no one likes so well.

 

Look it’s the jewelry we got from a friend

and the dress with the tear that we didn’t mend.

 

Soon they’ve emptied all the tubs of their different prizes,   

soon they’ve dressed themselves in clothes that are all the wrong sizes.

Soon they’ve put on strings of pearls and big gaudy rings,

soon they’ve cluttered up the hall with all their various things.

 

Soon they’ve tried on every hat and gauzy scarf and wig,

soon they’ve clumped around in shoes, six sizes too big.

Soon they’ve drowned themselves in wraps and fluffy furs and skins,

and they’ve roused up by this time an unexpected din.

 

Now they’re princesses and princes at a royal ball,

now they’re explorers on a mission to find Taj Mahal.

Now they’re sailors, now they’re Indians, now they’re pioneers,

now they’re soldiers in an army, now they’re buccaneers.

 

Now they’re each about his business in their make-believe town,

now they’re acrobats and dancers or a circus clown.

 Now they’re gypsies, now they’re genies, now they’re cops and crooks, 

now they’re characters come to life from their favorite story books.  

 

There’s the calling of a voice and a stopping of the play,

there’s a looking at the clock above in acrimonious dismay.

 

There’s a murmur of regret and a sigh or two,

there’re all the things returning to the simple box of blue.

 

There’s a sound of stacking crates, and a shutting of the door,

there are feet retracing somber steps across the dirty floor.

 

There’s a settling of silence as the voices fade away,

there are dreams of playing dress-up another rainy day.

~Halayah