Sweater

I felt like an old worn sweater, lifeless, used;

tossed aside lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Now gently lifted up by those I know and love

to be washed in warm gentle water.

All the grunge squeezed out and

fresh water flowing through my fibers.

Left to dry in the warm sunshine

no wrinkles, flat, ready to be worn again by life.