My Schmatta

Many years ago, my aunt,

Who’s always loved to knit,

Made a shawl for me with fringes –

Not my color, I’ll admit.

 

Yet it’s toasty warm and large enough

To drape around and stay

Without the need to hold it up;

I wear it every day.

 

A schmatta means a rag

Or else a garment that is old

But there is much affection

For this shawl that I’ve extolled.

 

See, my aunt’s made me replacements

In the colors I prefer

But they’re rarely worn because

To my dear schmatta I defer.