In the quiet of a wardrobe’s embrace,
Fabrics whisper tales of time and grace.
Each thread a journey, each seam a story,
Weaving moments of past in silent glory.

The silk remembers dances in the night,
Beneath the moon’s soft, silver light.
Linen echoes laughter in the sun,
With every fold, a memory spun.

Wool recalls the warmth of winter’s chill,
A guardian against the biting thrill.
Cotton hums of summer’s gentle breeze,
Draping comfort with effortless ease.

Clothes, more than fabric, they hold the past,
In every stitch, a spell is cast.
A tapestry of lives, of moments shared,
In the language of fashion, they’ve always cared.