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 © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2022
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