A letter from June 13th, 2023

Dear FutureMe, I wrote a poem after what happened today. I wanted to send it to you on my ride home. It’s been quite long since I’ve written poems, so I’m really rusty. But I felt compelled to pen this down, and I hope you don’t forget today. — Fabric — 1 Lot: $0 I found a free deal on Carousell. They were giving away free fabric lots. Her name was Mrs Lim, and her smile was friendly when I came. “These were my son’s fabrics. He was a designer.” “He’s not in Singapore anymore.” She said, How wonderful! I thought, an Artist pursuing his dream. We snipped the fabric, and I asked, “Where is he?” The designer overseas, His mother wearing his first few shirts, giving away his Free fabric lots. “He is Not in Singapore anymore. “ “I gave away his sewing machine, And his mannequin.” “I might have seen that,” I mentioned. Snip snip, more fabric shorn. “I wanted to throw away his designs, But my daughter wanted to keep them.” I cradled in my hands, and folded those Free fabric lots. “Why?” “Because of his brand.” “Which brand did he work for?” And at this, she turned and said, “he’s Not in Singapore anymore.” “He’s gone for good.” She was cutting the free fabric lots. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding the Free fabric lots, Worth their weight in Mrs Lim’s smile and eyes. And I left with those Free fabric lots. — Goodnight. :)