after the rain

Slipped my arms through weathered sleeves Cuffs still damp from yesterday's breeze Inside the lining, something pressed A crumpled note, a name once said No words return, no mark remains Just fabric worn in hand-shaped frames After the rain, what still remains? Pages left where ink has drained No outlines traced, no path to claim Just hollow rooms that look the same Fabric dries, but scent still lingers A place once warm, now touched by fingers The floor hums low, the clock moves on Morning turns, but what is gone? No hands to reach, no past to chase Only time left in its place After the rain, what still remains? Pages left where ink has drained No outlines traced, no path to claim Just hollow rooms that look the same No doors to close, no thread to tie Just air that moves, then passes by After the rain, what still remains? A coat once hung, a note displaced No names to call, no words to save Just open air where time behaves Slipped my arms through weathered sleeves Cuffs still damp from yesterday's breeze Inside the lining, something pressed A crumpled note, a name once said