Ficly

Kept

Soft, yellow cotton
Ripped to four sides
Remembered once whole

Tattered at feet
From fabric
Longer than little legs

Stained at sleeves
From spills
And mistakes

Warming at heart
Each stitch
Screaming past

Clung to present
Fragmented and fragile
Neatly lain

In the depths of a drawer
Beneath
Black lace

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