Had been toying with the idea of posting the poems I wrote in my journal a long time ago, when sadness provided a wealth of material. This one is entitled Old Clothes. Pretty apt since I just threw out some old clothes. I edited it a little.
I am covered
In old clothes, tattered and patched.
It serves its purpose well
Enough: Keeps me warm,
And at a distance, presentable.
Comfortable – Yes that’s what it is.
But I tire of the broken seams –
The frayed ends –
Weathered by warring winds and summer sun.
Oh but to take it off would tear it apart
Leave me exposed and bare for once.