Growing Old Like a Garment

I was woven in the morning light. Bright and strong. The colors tied.

Every stitch a story told. A fabric new but meant to fold.

Growing old like a garment. Frayed at the seams yet warm in the heart.

Every tear is a memory. Every patch a work of art I'm unraveling softly.

But I've carried love through the years. Growing old like a garment.

Worn with laughter, stained with te-e-e-ars. The edges curl. The dye runs thin.

But I remember where I've been. Hands that held me, storms I braved.

The gentle wear of lives I saved. Growing old like a garment.