Tactile Memories

The fabric of this jacket, worn thin at the seams,

tells stories of journeys, of laughter, of dreams.

Fingers glide over threads, remnants of nights,

chasing the warmth that slips from my sights.

At the bus stop, chill cuts through my skin,

yet this old coat wraps me, where warmth has been.

Every frayed edge whispers of moments, once bright,

a tactile reminder of fading daylight.