The burden of wet clothes

The rain found me, unarmed,

soaked through jacket dragging me down.

Fabric heavy, clinging like a second skin,

draped and dripping, cold pressing close.

Each step squelched, sleeves sagged,

a slow, soaked ache spreading,

the wetness a slow anchor pulling me home.

I shivered under sky gray and low,

a damp weight pressing past skin,

a reminder how much water remembers,

and how it drags on everything it touches.