It’s just a piece of clothing
It doesn’t matter what happens to it.
It’s just a piece of clothing,
Why are you so upset?
Because it isn’t just a piece of clothing.
It isn’t just fabric strung together with thread,
It’s the dress my mom made me for my preschool pictures
The one with the buttons that were shaped like cats to match the pattern.
It’s the costume I wore for my first musical,
Where I was a villager being forced to leave my home, wearing a green skirt, white shirt and brown head covering.
It’s the shoes I marched in for four years.
Their worn soles quietly echo the mantra, “Feet together, shoulders back, chin up, eyes with pride”.
It’s the flannel I inherited from my grandpa when he died,
That still somehow smells faintly of him six years later.
It’s just a piece of clothing
So why does it matter when a button falls off, or they get outgrown and the sleeves begin to fray?
It matters because they aren’t just clothes
These are memories wrapped in fabric, filled with love.
Memories of what and who made me who I am and who I want to become.
So they’re not just clothes, they’re a part of me.