Threadbearen

I am owner to that which is threadbearen.
I kept it out in all its brilliance and vitality
and throughout that time it became weak and faded
from exposure to the elements.
Through the tares it has held up.
Ripped and mended.
Ripped again and stitched again,
though replaced with a different color not indigenous
leaving new character added when the old self wore away.
Friends have worn it.
Lovers have touched it when I'd share it in bed.
Had to hide it a time or two when I sought its use,
but a flood of memories hurt too much.
My kids have renewed the lost vibrance it once bestowed
when they curl up to it against my breast knowing the importance within,
and no matter how hard they tug they can never tear it.
With time it needed to be cleaned, but it is threadbearen,
And scared was I to see it unravel in that fragile state
So I put it away for safe keeping.
But my heart longs to feel the elements again.
Too long have I feared it may finnally disolve
into the wollowings of depression.
So with my hands I washed the stains,
cut down how many friends borrow it,
and have found only one lover to curl up against it at night.
So now with a renewed awareness I can teach my kids how to mend their tares
and wash their own stains away
so that their hearts may keep the brilliance which
too fast
did I
let...
fade...
away...