Old clothes, too small now, yet
even when I wore them it was
not good enough, never good
enough, I could never be thin
...
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The last stanza and the last line is wonderful. 'But fatigue won…' you have expressed nicely. As the time flies, we become senior and like our old clothes there are issues... Fatigue sprouts... Love this poem,10+++
Are they the norm in side us all to fear the touch of light upon the moon.. or patch the eye with hard stretched cloth it laid in wait for us to know the value of that worth...iip..yet still..woman of worth you are...from such you grew..
a very good anadiplosis....this ''never good'' makes me cry...well written..10++