I descend clutching a
teetering banister to the
bowels of this holy place.
A sign welcomes me to
St. Mary’s Basement Boutique
where scent of unloved
clothing assaults me.
I finger grubby blouses
and skirts hanging limp
week after week unwanted.
Where is it? Hidden beneath
mounds of faded tee shirts?
Where is that swag I will
brag on for months?
At last I uncover something
beyond belief….a mohair sweater
snow white with pastel flowers.
A good fit, my prayer answered.
Retired ladies glance up.
They are volunteers filling
another empty afternoon.
The cashier consults her price list.
“One dollar” she says as I reply with
quick “thanks” fleeing blissfully.
When I get home, my bonanza
is baptized in cool water and suds
now reborn lustrous and all mine.
