How I love thee, my sweater!

In your grey-blues, the color of ice
Your patterned yoke hugs circles around my heart
Lopi-like, you shelter me from arctic cold.

Sheepish, I confess my first thoughts of you impure.
Bulky, I thought you. Unsvelte. Crude.
A curiosity, brought home for knitting technique alone.
I called you (forgive me)…Itchy. Something I’d never wear.

You have warmed heart and soul for days now.
Biting, eleven-freaking-below day after days.
I may never take you off, nor wear another.
My constant companion. Beloved icelandic.
(You don’t need to be washed…do you?)

(originally posted February 5, 2007, elsewhere. One of my favorite posts from the blog I used to write. I was sorry to see it go. Thanks to the wayback machine for letting me find it again.)

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