Corduroy
by Sheri
Winter comes when lines down your face
or street are set cracks in the
porcelain
or these velvet lines that weigh heavy
with a warm cover unexposed to chatter
deep in thought the studious one wears
the browns and grays of any worldly day
mine with suspenders and a beret were
long through the night and never tore
on
any star from the sky Oh what joy it is
to feel the soft ridges ready for
anything
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