The Old Shirt-W

After very long time, I took out my shirt Cornered in the wardrobe on a hanger. I found a long familiar hair in the collar How a*beauty drew me with a single hair. Ah! What a feel of an intoxicating smell Of her most favored Bocheron perfume. Bringing back the memory of the past I wore that shirt in that memorial winter. Relapsed in to that my fondest memory As I was penning pretty poor poetry The blonde with midnight black hair came Asked me to finish my poem*March Madness. My unfinished poem in black ink dried up Finished and could finish my wet desire. Those curious locks my soul so aptly twined Whose every soft hair a soul doth bind. Young memory of first love never fades away Old memory is like flowers planted yesterday. ******** *Inspired by Alexander Pope ** My Poem in the Archives. ========================================= Fourth Place win in Contest : Fondest memory sponsored by frank Herrera