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My Old Sweater

A deep burgundy blanket

surrounding my torso with warmth.

My favorite necklace trapped in the fuzz.

Covered in holes and loose threads.

Every task, causing new snags and pulls.

Each event, binding to the yarn—

memories turning to artifacts.

Recent Posts

Tight seat with tight belt. Through the window there’s invisible stars. Downwards, countless lights merge into one. All the footprints ...

Steam rises gently, Her hands dance with spice and love, Home tastes warm and safe. One bite of the rich And flavorful cinnamon, ...

Through the spring window is a bright burst of new green— great times are coming. The birds are singing, they are on their schedule—...