The blue sweater

The blue sweater

etched in memory,

there it lay.

Ah! such a pretty face, so round.

She wore it with such pride.

Brown against the deep blue,

her face - seethed of

teenage turmoil and ripened views.

The blue sweater

etched in memory,

it moved.

He tore at it, made holes.

Frayed and tattered, it was worn.

He loved it though, got him the girls!

The brown against the deep blue,

his face - it was a beacon of love and smiles.

The blue sweater

etched in memory,

Grew, bigger than it ever was.

Purloined, it became lost and popular.

I picked it out, carefully one day.

It lay in an almost emptied out brown carton.

I hemmed and hawed over it.

Made it my size, made it mine.

My face as it peeked out,

Was there, just there.

I loved it too. Others never noticed though.

And so the blue sweater,

finally settled down. Blue, deep blue.

Against nothing. Rested and peaceful.

Etched in memory,

no more it lay.