—the cold is no longer a novelty; it’s a presence pressing against the door frame
You pull it from the closet’s hush,
where dust keeps time and seasons wait.
The fabric holds an older shape,
your shoulders, once more certain, straight.
A sleeve falls open like a yawn,
inviting you to slip inside.
The lining’s worn, but still it keeps
the quiet warmth you used to hide.
A loose thread tells of rushed escapes,
a pocket lined with brittle leaves,
a button cracked from leaning close
to someone you no longer see.
You put it on. The coat exhales,
a faint, familiar winter tune.
It settles onto you with grace,
like being recognized too soon.
Outside, the wind rehearses cold.
Inside, the coffee still gives steam.
The coat remembers who you were,
and holds you as you learn to be.
📜 The Coat That Still Remembers – The Recipe
Ingredients:
- 1 steaming mug of morning coffee
- 1 well-worn winter coat retrieved from deep storage
- One forgotten thing found in the pocket
Instructions:
Set the mug on a stable surface. Put on the coat slowly and let it mold to your December shoulders. Check the pockets for remnants of last winter’s life. Take a sip once the coat feels like a sentence you’ve finally finished. Step outside. Let the cold test your stitching.