We flip carelessly through piles of clothing
scattered across the rainbow Persian rug
gazing at ourselves in the mirror
screaming with delight at our unfamiliar reflections.
We rummage among the mess
the jacket tumbles down to your knees
I stumble and trip in Mummy’s synthetic leather heels
her precious Victorian style sunhat hides my face.
Long golden curls clash with your tuxedo,
this silver singlet reveals too much skin on me
but we’re five years young so we don’t notice.
The silk shirt sleeves dangle past my waist
matched with a gypsy skirt that I slip on
muddy footprints stamped on the delicate flower patterns
I wipe it hastily against the newly spread bed sheets.
I’m sure Mummy won’t mind.
When you change into a velvet green nightgown
you look like a little Russian porcelain doll
so pale and so perfect.
The velvet eases gently off your smooth white skin
I change out of the artificial fur jacket six sizes too big.
The floor a whirlpool of fabrics
then we change back to our shirts and shorts.
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