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Ready to let go of your clothes,
Dad wants me to empty your closets,
keeping what I want
before the rest goes to charity.
I slide hangers across
racks,thinking how you loved a bargain.
In the end, I decide to only take
what you’d never worn—a jacket, tags still attached,
and yes, you got it on sale.
Then, in a rush, I grab some black t shirts so old
they’ve begun the long slow fade to gray.
After all this time
they still hold your scent.

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