An Encounter

I put my purse away,

into the pointed room.

To find a pile of coats,

next to a dusty broom.

The dinner party, crowded,

with ties and shoes that clack.

A cloak of handsome truth,

underneath the stack.

Curious, I delve in,

to hold the one of yours,

until the covers fell,

all to the wooden floor.

I'm quick to redesign,

to put them back in place,

until I caught the mirror,

which there reflects your face.

My hands are clutched with wool,

linen, and dark leather,

you say you needed yours,

you heard of bad weather.

Complaisant I gave you,

a corduroy dark blue,

and you smiled with those eyes,

but you were just a tie.