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.