In this house there are many rooms

And in the rooms are many cupboards

And in the cupboards are many clothes

Clothes in which we dress

And seek to shed to suit the mood

Suits in which to parade and hide

And yet we never truly own with pride

They are that which we are born too

That which comes in many shapes shades and sizes

Some to the untrained eye are ill fitting

Some fit body hugging tight

Aquiline and resolute

Others baggy

Hanging loose and ashamed

 

But these are the suits that we wear

Those to which we are born and given

Not to hide in cupboards to collect moths and dust

These are the garments that we neither need to

Colour lengthen or shorten

Take out

Tuck in

Embroider or sew sequins

Add tassels or tartan

These are the suits we have no need to shed

With every crease fold and crinkle

These are the clothes of which we can be proud

Tailored with every spot stripe patch and wrinkle

For these are those

In which we are all beautifully and magnificently fashioned

Born to suit

The finely dressed lady or gentleman

One and all