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The red plaid flannel
With missing buttons
And mended tears,
Soft and bare from countless washings.
His favorite workshirt,
Gently folded and placed in the carton.
The blue and cream stripe,
Very up to date
And handsome.
"Stripes are slimming," I said.
My favorite of his shirts
Carefully folded for the last time.
The red knit polo,
The only one he didn't
Have to take off to
Eat spaghetti!
I wish he were here
To eat spaghetti.
The cowboy shirt
With pearl buttons.
He wore it to a western party.
We tried line dancing,
But ended up just laughing.
I said good-bye, and squeezed his hand
In the hospital,
Though he hadn't spoken in three years.
Finally,
The shirts are packed,
The carton sealed.
Now, I say good-bye,
And mean it.
Carrie Backe
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