Faded colors of green, pink, and yellow flowers
Are thrown upon the pillows of my bed.
With cotton exposed from the torn fabric,
Clean scent but a decaying appearance,
It maintains a soft and welcoming touch.
Woven into the decrepit cloth are my years
From the start of my life through my college days.
Resting in my bed I hold it tight to allow me to sleep,
The same way I use to when placed in my crib.
Though ragged and frayed, I shall never let go.
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