My closet is full of rough clothes—
Denim, flannel, corduroy and such,
Hiking high tops and rubber boots—
Sturdy, serious, firm to the touch.
These cover me as I carry on
With the tasks at hand in a life of work,
Protected from rocks and thorns
And things that poke and scratch;

 

I’m thankful for the rough clothes
That prepare me to brave the storm,
But soft clothes are my favorite,
They make me feel so fine;
Cotton, velvet, silk, and satin—
Fabrics of leisure,
With a glass of wine.
Draped and dangling in the closet,
Stuffed in drawers waiting.
After a long day, a hard day,
I put on my soft clothes
And feel my troubles melt away.