Brow-beaten and dusted, the leather jacket stood tall on the hanger of fame.
Changing hands from great grand parents, parents and sons as it could tell legion of stories in big cities, its tryst with destiny on rough terrains in obscure villages.
The romantic adventure smeared with intimacy and kisses made its leather-ly heart become red with jealousy.
It witnessed warfare, civil protests and strife in equal measure as countries stormed its way to freedom.
Face of years of rebel, the leather jacket stands as a symbol moving beyond age and time.
Telling thousands of stories and burying deep dark secrets as it changed hands and moving across the globe.
Wishing for the last destination, it traveled tirelessly and seamlessly into a world that made it toiled blood and sweat,
sheltering the flesh against winter and pain.
Today, it hangs on a mantle as onlookers occasionally peeked at it and admiring its vintage beauty.
An object of admiration, it refuses to grow old as it drowns in its own solace and grief.