In the pockets of memory I found a crumpled note

In the pockets of memory, I found a crumpled note,

words from a stranger, in a thrift store coat.

Faded ink whispers of stories long past,

a ghost of a life, too precious to last.

Each line a reminder, a thread in the seam,

curiosity lingers, a half-remembered dream.

What paths did they wander? What joys did they find?

I wear their old coat, but their heart’s left behind.