In the morning light, the clothes hang high,
Silken whispers in the wind, they sigh.
Cotton dreams and denim tales,
Each thread woven with life’s details.

Garments speak of days gone by,
Of laughter, tears, and the sky so high.
Patterns of joy and sorrow sewn,
In every stitch, a story is known.

The closet holds a silent song,
Of journeys taken, of right and wrong.
Velvet nights and linen days,
Each piece a memory that stays.

So when you dress, remember this,
Each fabric holds a subtle kiss.
A bond between the past and now,
A tapestry of life, somehow.