That Jacket

It isn't that often as time marches on that my glad rags come out for a 'do', more funerals now, each year more friends have gone, and no births to welcome someone new. But a forthcoming bash meant I should cut a dash with some formal wear brought from retirement, a jacket, single breasted , years past I invested, it seemed to match my dress requirement. With a shirt crisp and white, shoes, trousers black as night and a tie, subtle shades of pale blue, and the time came to leave, pushed my arms in my sleeves but something was amiss, I just knew. This didn't feel right, shoulders felt that bit tight cuffs were far from my wrists as I looked, and a mirror can't lie I could now see that I looked quite like a baloney, half cooked. I bent forwards and shrugged, both my shoulders I hugged stomach in, and breathed out, shrank my chest, the lapels wouldn't meet, I admitted defeat it's a fact- my East wouldn't meet West. Passing years and good living had not been forgiving and although I picked clothes with good taste maybe had been too proud, but my clothes weren't allowed to keep up with the change round my waist. No cursing and no shouts, so I still sauntered out it annoyed me that I'd dropped a clanger, ensemble concluded, it visually alluded to an airship just leaving it's hangar.