Threadbare cloak

It is a bright cloak that I wear intermittently now and then
The colors are vibrant and confers some power quite sudden
Engrossed in its captivating folds I sometimes lose perspective
And start thinking it is as real as the underlying objective

I notice time seems to be acting up on its glossy fabric
There appear to be signs of wear and tear quite tragic
I patch the cloak with great care and ensure that it lasts
But it is a losing battle as the present slips slowly to past

Time passes and days merge quietly without any fanfare
The cloak has slowly lost its sheen and turned threadbare
I now hang it up more often than wear it for outside trip
The periods are more infrequent as age tightens its grip

One day perchance I happened to pick another fine garment
My closet was full of such finery like a store's department
It was not the cloak but underlying form that was quite real
Now I shuffle through multiple cloaks without shedding a tear