Old Clothes

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

And worse,

Leave me exposed and bare for once.

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