Senescence
My wrinkled fingers caress
the silken threads of your
favorite azure blue scarf
The old closet holds this soft wisp
of fabric lying obscurely
beneath a few threadbare quilts
The slight pallor which comes
with senescence, tugs at
my heart strings, yet again
I touch it tentatively, coz
I'm scared of losing this last
possession of yours
I inhale the memories
encased in its worn-out folds,
where your fragrance still lingers
Tears escape from the corners of
my myopic eyes, as you smile
at me from heavens above
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