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