Ten Years of Snags

Decade-old jacket, the fabric worn thin,

its zipper now catches, a stubborn chagrin.

Every tug pulls memories from threads frayed and torn,

a song of the past, though it’s ragged and worn.

I trace every snag like a whispered regret,

this constant companion, my journey's duet.

With each little snag, I recall where I've been,

and the warmth that it carries, like flesh wrapped in skin.