Get Your Premium Membership

My Schmatta

Many years ago, my aunt, Who’s always loved to knit, Made a shawl for me with fringes – Not my color, I’ll admit. Yet it’s toasty warm and large enough To drape around and stay Without the need to hold it up; I wear it every day. A schmatta means a rag Or else a garment that is old But there is much affection For this shawl that I’ve extolled. See, my aunt’s made me replacements In the colors I prefer But they’re rarely worn because To my dear schmatta I defer.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 1/22/2022 8:28:00 PM
Schmatkies to wear; latkes to eat; Any time of year; both are great treats! Mazeltov! :) gw
Login to Reply
Date: 1/17/2022 10:56:00 AM
My mother-in-law was a knitter, and I must admit they make warm cloaks, but what happened to feet first? Enjoy your off-colour days! Aloha!
Login to Reply
Date: 1/17/2022 7:00:00 AM
- There are some things that can never be replaced ... lovely memory, Ilene :) - hugs // Anne-Lise :)
Login to Reply
Date: 1/16/2022 3:46:00 PM
A lovely poem, Ilene. Reminds me of a warm, knitted neck scarf I wear in the cold of winter.
Login to Reply
Date: 1/16/2022 1:51:00 PM
oh how wonderful reminds me of a comfort blanket and it can never be replaced with a new one:-) hugs Jan xx
Login to Reply