These Tattered Clothes Poem by Myrtle Thomas

in the mirror I see the same old clothes
as I reflect on seven decades of wearing
the creases and tattered fabric of blue
the depressions and folds of by-gone days
wear thin so thin - my soul naked in the eyes
of society hold me in invisible chains and bars
who am I to know that clothing hides the soul
my reflection wears the definition of blue
while the image of my worthiness hangs
from a torn pocket
seven decades of blue clothing but nothing
to cover my sins nor my shame as the sunsets
bring just another tribute to the shadow standing
undressed with emotions exposed
sometimes the mirror deceives my eyes
seeing myself as another person in different clothes
I find myself modeling - but the mirror curses me.