A Part Of You
I picked up your robe today
How many times had I said to you
Throw that thing away.
But you refused to
Said it suited you fine.
I looked at all the holes burned in
From cigarettes, the nap worn,
The hem uneven, but you were stubborn.
Many times I started
To throw it out anyway
Not believing you couldn’t part with anything so tacky.
I guess I wanted to be rid of the robe and you,
Your hateful words, your ugly moods.
But looking at it today it seems
A symbol of our final years,
Its quality faded like our dreams,
The hem as uneven as your temperament
The spots – all the bitter tears
Shed during interminable arguments.
You’re gone now.
I sorted your clothes
Boxing them for the Good Will
Jackets, shirts, ties – all
Will be worn by faceless people.
I held it close to me
Wishing we could retrace our years
Knowing this was not to be,
Too late for us – too soon for tears
I hung your robe back in the closet.