The Dwindling.(Poem)

 
THE DWINDLING 
 
   The dead's beloved treasures dwindle. 
   First to go are the clothes they wore, 
   suits and ties and old-fashioned pants 
   are cleaned and packed for the Salvos' store. 
 
   After the war good cloth was scarce 
   so Grandpa's shirts became our blouses. 
   His furniture wasn't too easy to switch 
   as none of it fitted our post-war houses. 
 
   He left me a coin from Victoria's reign 
   to wear as a necklace, hung on a chain: 
   I lost it one day in the buffet car 
   while travelling north on the Sydney train. 
 
   One each from mother and two grandmothers 
   and best of all, are three old chairs 
   that raise the tone of my modest home 
   with the je ...