Forlorn

A clump of leftover rags,

Abandoned and alone

Used and discarded,

Left on its own.

Once they were valued,

Almost beyond compare

Beautiful and pristine,

Shiny against her hair

But now they are faded

With time and despair

No more will gazes linger,

Now that she doesn’t care

Their purpose yet lingers

Useful, perhaps, to someone

But their glory days have passed,

Their youth is done.

I feel their sadness

as I walk on by

I try not to look at them

I try not to cry

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