that faded like dyed red cotton shirt
that soft comfort,
nowhere to be found
not in the almirah
not in the laundry
not hanging on the clothsline
nor has it flown to the neighbour's fence.
It's just a matter of time
perhaps
I'll find its faded prints
in its wrinkled self again
lying somewhere close by
when i least need it.
Ah!...and then it'll suddenly propel me
to leave everything aside
to wear and feel its
soft warmth again.
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