Poem of the Month

Wedding Dress by Dave Walklett

Were someone to ask

I wouldn’t remember your dress,

though I remember the wedding.

I’ve seen photographs, of course,


I can’t remember the dress.

You’ve worn it since, on stage

in My Fair Lady

and to parties where you wanted to impress.

And you did, as always.

But now

in a plastic bag,

behind the bedroom door, it gathers dust.