I find an old friend at the back of my closet.
The fabric is soft from many washings.
A little roomy but so forgiving.
The color is mottled like the twilight sky.
In the worn jeans, I walk beside the Blue River.
Colors are muted.
I'm quiet, too.
My thoughts reflect back to me.
The river dances and sings its song.
As in life, I cross bridges when I come to them.
I see both sides of the issue.
Changing constantly, yet steadfast.
The water sweeps by as I watch the flow.
I'm part of the ongoing stream.
The jeans, the river, and Barb, definitely wabi-sabi, though perhaps not quite in fashion.
We are old friends - one good thing.