Is there thing that makes life better?
Than throwing on your favourite sweater
When you got it, no one knows
That one with holes in both elbows
It smells of hanging on clothesline
Of woodsy walks, of moss and pine
Its well-worn lining whisper soft
At end of day you hate to doff
Like old friend that knows what to do
When cool days have you feeling blue
In summer you won’t wear as much
Although you’ll miss its soothing touch
But cool night breeze might find yourself
On hunt for it, for nothing else
Can satisfy your need for cover
(Except embrace from cherished lover)
For years, until its paper-thin
A thousand wears have done it in
Reluctantly, in trash, you’ll toss
Perhaps with sadness for the loss
Of simple shrug of jersey sewn
A woven hug that felt like home…
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