Grandmas Shawl

[Delta40]

The tattiest brown wool
so matted and frayed
like the distant memories it holds
stretched from years of wrapping
round bodies in need of comfort
the shawl catches on the table,
a door handle
A cat pounces at the tassles
while my fingers unravel knots
in its weary imperfections.
At my lowest point
the strands tug at my heart
and remind me each time
of the reason why I wear it.

[Haunted]

Some of us are just suckers for sentimentality. I got my own stash. This poem speaks to me.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This reads like a breath of love.