clearing out the truths in my closet
i find another.
amidst the chaos and the calm,
there drapes the dark woollen coat.
persistently promising to always be in vogue.
its length smiles at my older self
its warmth laughs at my latter days
its style larks at the former self
its size beams in my early age
telling me its elegance is grasped
at a certain stage.
yet we are sheared
from the same black sheep.
spun from the same yarn.
cut from the same cloth. Continue reading “Black Sheep (Poetry)”