Inside my wardrobe, reels of clothes roll,
spinning across various ages, youth to old.
I love my clothes with all my heart,
With them, why would I ever want to part?
Inside, it brims with so much life,
my childhood, the good times, the warm, fuzzy vibes.
Bright blouses, fluttering with flowers and butterflies,
white tops peppered with black dots and stripes.
That aqua gown stole the show on prom night.
These rainbow tights always make my grey days bright.
My hot pink top reminds me of fun holiday breaks,
ditching them away would make my heart break.
They are like family, my true-blue friends.
I can’t just dump them for newer trends.
Sure, some new ones flatter, and I do buy them,
but most end loose, tattered, too stubborn to mend.
On the other hand, my clothes fit like tailored gloves.
With every wear, I feel so hugged and loved.
Yeah, some naysayers say they’re out of date,
but I rate them great, even top rate.
For me, clothes are not some cutesy fling,
to date this year, then ditch next spring.
How could I just toss them in the bin?
We rose together through thick and thin.
Oh I know there’s photos, videos, of me and my clothes,
such closed, misty windows to our priceless time that flows
but they never show the textures, the magic back then.
no, only my old clothes can wrap me in those rosy memories again.
Perhaps some time I’ll unwind, loosen up that buttoned old mind,
open new doors, explore new kinds, maybe bag a few new finds.
