The Coat

Maybe you could tell, I wasn't doing that well, so you took off your coat and gave it to me. Felt the warmth of you in shades of powder blue, though it was supposed to be our spring. Always looking over your shoulder, your soul seems wiser and older.. yet leftover seasons won't let you be.. what was it you hoped to see? Weeks and months came and went, fragile years so quickly spent. Are you happy now that I wrote? Or maybe angry.. I never returned your coat.