This Rag

This Rag

Attractively patterned
A delight to be seen
This rag worn when new
With pastel and sheen

A skin to be worn
A statement declaring
An adornment so chosen
Collected for wearing

Worn on the sleeve
To parties and do’s
Admired and remarked on
This one you did choose

Is hardly a patch?
Of what it has been
Colours now faded
And jaded if seen

Peppered with pinpricks
Frayed through and through
Worthless to me
Of no use to you

Spun through Life’s cycles
Stretched on the line
A rag that now flags
And flaps out of time

Cleans up and wipes up
And no longer shares
With not enough left
To soak up the tears

Wipes clean those dishes
Shines up those lights
Yet hiding and covering
Its crimson delight

Kept for its uses
But not for itself
A Rag out of sinc
Its heart on the shelf.


This poem appears in my other Blog. The poem is something of a hybrid for my condition. It stands in this blog too. I have posted it in the D'Stillery Lounge as well.