An Ode To His Jumper...

The wool still seems so fresh,
Even today.
The emerald green has now faded,
Dulled to a strange hue,
Lackluster, like my life.

Running my fingers
Over your favorite jumper,
I can feel your heartbeat,
Even today.
The lubb and the dubb,
You often made me hear-
A song, so dear,
Yet, now forgotten.

I remember the umpteen times,
We have gone out,
In the chilling winds-
And the warmth of your embrace.

The many times, I had cried,
And drenched your jumper, soft-
Your warmth seeping in,
Your safe hands patting me-
I had gone to sleep, many a night.

I still can whiff the fragrance,
Of our yesterdays-
The chocolate sauce that driveled,
Amidst the laugh riots-
The stains of love,
Washed away, yet ambrosial,
Sprinkled with fondest of memories.

Holding onto your jumper,
I sit, this afternoon,
On the very same wooden chair,
Where I sat ages ago,
With my knitting yarn-

Just that, my skin has now wrinkled,
And my hair has turned silver-

And most of all,
The deep red rug where you sat on,
Playing with our dearest dog-

Ever so vacuous, it pleads on to me...

... and, I once again, drench your jumper, stark!