Old Coat Poem by soren Barrett

Orphan wool made a slave, my armor against enemy cold
Mother eaten, bones in a grave, torn from her side into bondage sold
Riding my back in the night, protector from wailing shells of rain
Rough teeth of fiber gives skin a bite, ripped rag a sailing stain
In each pocket two holes, framed in frayed spider webs now empty
As lining unrolls of ancient scrolls hanging thread fingers tempt me
Crusted dirt as coat's shirt, in storm homeless, a hearth and fire
Thorn's hurt thick wool does avert, staying warm in rain or mire
Wild wings flap at zipper's gap where age broken teeth don't meet
Wrapped in a woolen scrap I hug the heat of a friend obsolete