MOTHER’S OLD SHAWL

Inside a drawer, away from sight, There lies a shawl once warm and bright. Though colours fade and edges part, Its warmth remains around my heart. It wrapped my shoulders before school, When dawn was pale and mornings cool. Her careful hands would make it stay, Then wave as I went on my way. It smelled of soap and kitchen spice, Of simple meals and kind advice. Of nights when fever would not end, And she sat near, my oldest friend. Now when the colder evenings fall, I sometimes take that faded shawl. No cloth can bring the past once more, Yet memories open every door. It is not silk, nor rich, nor new, But holds a love forever true. The world may value things by cost; This shawl keeps all I might have lost.