Imposter
I used to have a hat.
It was beautiful with a dashing brim
made of the softest emerald felt
the colour of spring moss
with a feather that swooped.
I swished a cape around me
it was green like midnight forests and
the velvet stroked my back.
It fastened at my throat
with a single button of burnished bone.
When I put it on in my room
I had to look at myself in the mirror
over my shoulder with a wink
and the tip of the feather quivered.
Then I remembered who I was and took it off again.
