Hot has turned cool. And cool
has turned cold in the desert
sun. I took a windy walk to
the mailbox. First cold day for
my old grey zip up sweater
that I used to take to the office
for years. Even my favorite mug
is cold to the touch! “Why that
sweater?” you ask. It was for
inside. I’d wear a wool sweater
to stave off the winter inside.
It isn’t a particularly attractive
sweater, I imagine. I don’t see
color. So, I thought if it was
stolen at work, it wouldn’t
matter much. Fraying at the
cuffs a bit, but that is okay.
So am I. Every winter I wear
it; like now, sitting at my desk,
remembering my workplaces
of winters’ past that have long
forgotten me. Thank you, Lord,
that it was never stolen. Great day
for hot tea and sweater memories.
Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)
I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)