Returning to rituals

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I dress once more
in the garb of memory,
Every button and hem laden
With ghosts of days gone by.
Through these familiar fibres
That silently conspire,
My soul pays to ancient witchcraft.
For in these garments
I felt your first warm gaze,
When our eyes met
And our destinies intertwined -
Now your touch helps me
To retrace the old dance
That led me willingly
Out of my mind.