Linen

A year ago, I bought a linen jacket.

Dark blue, but not quite navy. Nice.

I didn’t buy the trousers. I almost did,

but then I hesitated: another sixty quid.

 

I’ve worn the jacket loads since then,

but every time I’ve put it on I’ve felt regret;

a sense of something incomplete; and worse than that:

a few pounds saved, you penny-pinching twat.

 

I went back to the shop the other day.

A sale: a rack of linen trousers down

from sixty quid to thirty five; a chance to save a packet.

I hesitated: would they match the jacket?

 

They did. I’m wearing them together now,

trousers and jacket, exact same shade of blue.

They’re creasing up a bit, it’s true,

but hey, that’s linen.