My Hug

I have an article of clothing
Making an appearance again
As winter rapidly heads my way
I don the loving stolen jersey
more than 20 years old
With a hole in the sleeve
Pilfered
from my husband’s cupboard
Back when we were just dating
And never returned
I have named it my hug
As the comfort it gives me
Though in serious disrepair
Like hiding under a soft blanket
In hibernation from the cold outside
No longer suitable for public viewing
I dread the inevitable destination
For it is true what they say
They don’t make clothes
Like they used to
And though it has long been laced
With my own scent
The treads carry memories
Of young love and beginnings
Of shiny and new
And sentimental gestures
That cling to the wool
Like the butterflies
That had hold of my stomach
In those beginning times
So for now, while it is mostly whole
I have it cuddle me constantly
Remind me
And give me comfort
As the nights grow long
And our time together shorter

Debbie Gravett © 2021.03.07

FOWC: Article
RDP: Blanket
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay

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