"Love Like Denim: A Timeless Odyssey" by Marcus T. Browne

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The only one left, a rarity indeed.
I remember the day they chose me back in 1983.
I still keep the tag on to remember how much it cost to get them.
Stitched to perfection, fitted with a sensual emblem.
No need to compare, no need to contrast.
I have this one special pair, a good denim, I got me a love that will last.
One that surmounts the emotional norm or an intangible storm.
Suitable in any weather, any temperature, cold or warm.
I am always glad to wear these jeans, yet one thing I fear:
“What if I were to outgrow them, or, if they were to tear?”
My only guess would be to give them to another so their love can be reborn,
Because, there is more to these jeans than just the look,
But, rather, how great it feels when they are worn.
So I stitched a message in its front pocket to always remember:

“Its impossible to get another pair; 
To get another love like this from any other store.
These jeans are sold out.
One of a kind, I am sure.
So it’s gon’ be hard to find a pair like ‘em, 
There aren’t anymore.
Lets keep its condition prime by passing ‘em down to keep its love alive.
Love like Denim.”

With these jeans passed down to me from my brother long ago in ’04,
I know that the soul is the thread that binds together this denim.
While the heart is bled into every stitch that is seamed.
These jeans seem to endlessly withstand the conditions in its wake.
It can take so much pressure, stretching out the pains that it does face.
Climbing trees so high in the sky,
Running over obstacles to head towards home or
Jumping on stepping stones while crossing the creeks.
You see, no matter the adventure, these jeans have seen it all.
Though in time, like in Life, things do age and these jeans do grow old.
But behold, for every time I do fit them, they give me warmth and protection.
Seeming like they never want to let go.
Its the Love that it desires, for it was the Love from it was created.
And when the time comes, when I grown out from these jeans.
Like my brother before me, I shall pass them on to thee.
For, I read the message stitched in its front pocket:

“Its impossible to get another pair; 
To get another love like this from any other store.
These jeans are sold out.
One of a kind, I am sure.
So it’s gon’ be hard to find a pair like ‘em, 
There aren’t anymore.
Lets keep its condition prime by passing ‘em down to keep its love alive.
Love like Denim.”

I remember my father telling me that these jeans were special,
That they have a special fit,
So special, they can’t be compared to another.
What makes them “one-of-a-kind?” or “the best of the best?”,
For, I must confess, they look like a raggedy mess!!
Its totally 2020, So I jest!
I couldn’t be caught with wearing something worn and old,
I wanted the attention, I needed something new and gold!
Though, I notice now how real it is,
The meaning behind a passed down gift.
Though they might be stitched and sewn,
The love that was honed upon them are now my own.
Now that I know the feel, as they caress upon my hips,
I can be me and be true and be real with no tricks.
This girl, here, can venture out with no fear to flock,
For it is me and my jeans that carry love its front pocket...

“It’s impossible to get another pair; 
To get another love like this from any other store.
These jeans are sold out.
One of a kind, I am sure.
So it’s gon’ be hard to find a pair like ‘em, 
There aren’t anymore.
Lets keep its condition prime by passing ‘em down to keep its love alive.
Love like Denim.”

     

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