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On The Rails

Phew! This department if so unbearably stifling,
The whole populace is frantically rifling,
Through loads of clothes, hanging up for inspection,
Either for your acceptance, or for your rejection,
On the rails,
At the Sales!

The available sizes left, are eight's and eighteen's,
In shirts, blouses, jumpers and denim blue jeans,
Bra cups in E's and F's and G's.
Skirts so short, they ride way above the knees,
What sort of 'shapes' are these stores expecting,
What choice, have we, when it comes to selecting,
From the rails,
At the Sales!

It's a manic crush, and there's really no mistaking,
Fighting over, items' that aren't worth the taking,
Like that half price dress, that was less than you thought,
But that someone else has just grabbed and has bought,
So quick, and you being just a little bit too slack,
You have lost it, and it won't now be yours, with diamante in black,
Off the rails,
At the Sales!

Oh! It's a battle, and such a mad struggle to survive,
And in the end, it takes so many hours to revive,
Your senses, and days like this one can be so tiring,
When buying these bargains, which you have stood there admiring,
Hung on rails,
At the Sales!

poem by Ernestine Northover
Added by Poetry Lover
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