The Leather Jacket Poem by Edwina Reizer

It is strange how I can still remember
the smell of the jacket you wore.
It was made of brown leather that fit you well.
I had never breathed that before.
It must have been recorded in my memory
for it never faded away.
It was smooth to touch but not as smooth
as the hand that I touched that day.

It must have been cold. I can’t remember.
It had a collar made of sheepskin.
What I do remember is the one who wore it,
the one it held within.
The smell is a memory. The boy is not.
I married the boy that became a man.
The jacket is gone but the man’s still here.
And so is the touch of his hand.