The draggy pants, the torn, moth eaten sweater
My relics from days when formal dress wasn't
So de rigueur and I didn't don polyester
Now full of memories, now not fashion sense
Just perfect for black coffee and delayed attic trips
With dust and photographs yellow with age
Tiny snips of hair from angels that passed by
We don't need the armor of society
To enjoy the things that comfort us most
The old, familiar, useful, worn, but faithful friends
Who remain so stolidly with us today
Embraced by memories I hold most dear
I'm wearing my old comfort clothes today
(c)Anne Darrison 2009
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