subtly woven into each fibre.
Luxury among mediocrity. Cashmere
faintly holds the fragrance of virulent lies,
perspiration, earned honesty,
Natural fibres stretch,
in time, to accommodate the
weight of all she stood up to. Decisions
derived unwillingly, expansive circumstance
beyond control. Colour fades, becomes
Old sweater. A favorite
will age. We all do. Once offered warmth,
now covers up mistakes, scars, neglect.
Modalities of poor choices an unworthy
excuse. Leave an impression. Finer threads
come with a price.
© 2018 J.G. Lewis