the blue sweat shirt

it was a hand

me down,

at twelve,

the blue sweatshirt,

torn

and worn,

faded,

washed so many times

over and over

and hung

out to dry on the line.

and yet

i wore it

all summer long into

winter.

it no longer fits,

but sometimes

i take it out of the bottom

drawer

to remember

when i was young.