Gentle obsessions

A seventy eight year old lady,
Daphne lived in a state house in St Johns.
She would go shopping
only on a Tuesday.
The food was fresher
on a Tuesday she said
and the taxi driver she liked
was on duty.
She was meticulous
when she chose her vegetables.
The kumara had to be the right shape
so she could hold it
in her small hand to peel.
It had to be smooth, no bumps
so the peeler would slide over it.
Her kitchen cupboards
were scrupulously organised.
She would obsessively nest
her precious china from big to small,
like shape in like shape,
less chance of chipping she said.
Her wardrobe was similarly ordered.
The coat hangers were all the same,
covered in cream satin over foam and
every fifth one had a tiny sachet
of lavender hanging from it.
Dresses, skirts, and blouses were all
sorted according to colour,
her shoes sat neatly on shoe trees,
and her handbags were
lined up by size
on the top shelf.
I hear Daphne died.