downsizing

I want to thank you cashmered lady, for the recommendation
A south african shiraz is not a wine I would generally buy
You stood, being jostled by the friday night crowd;
gold burnished bob swinging silkily, despite being
ever so slightly overdue
Your friend was holding up the bottle
'yes', you said. 'that one was nice'
and your voice had that new friend violin string timbre

A fragile alliance, based on the kinship of outsiders
- You never thought did you
that having nice hair and good clothes or how
you pronounce 'fowey' would single you out at the school gate
would mark you as being different -
So you meet once a week, chat about how your husband
is keen to take up sailing and how well Harry has settled in
at the actually quite good local school

You might not have thought, even had you noticed me
- browsing the '3 for a tenner' bottles of wine
with my home hacked urchin and man sized fleece -
that we could possibly have
anything in common

But I know the tightness of the strings
that hold you together, have felt the sharpness
of the knives turning in your heart
I could tell you how much you miss
Waitrose, wine bars and country clubs
nice meals with nice friends and things to do
how you thought it would be warmer, prettier, more wholesome
and how hard you're trying to settle into a down-sized life
and how, long after your friend has gone
you'll sit, sequestered, in your charming character cottage
listening to the waves rushing the shore
sounding like some kind of life in a faraway town