Friday, July 18, 2008

The Smoking Jacket

I am the smoking jacket
you left so long ago.
I hang on the wall,
never worn again.

You left me in your closet
after you cured yourself.
Your scent of pipe tobacco
still lingers in my stitching.

You wore me twice
every day.
I was a part of your life
for thirty years.
Before that time,
we were inseparable.

You wore me at night,
after dinner with coffee.
You wore me at twilight,
when wine was served.
You wore me every day,
but no longer.

Now here I hang,
You left me here.
You bettered yourself,
so for that I am grateful.
But why did you leave
your precious jacket
hanging in the attic?

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