The Purple Sweater

It lay hung on a rack
In the corner of a store.
No one seemed to be going near it,
Or even noticed it.
It just hung there
Waiting to be found, cared for and loved.

Days, weeks and months passed,
Yet the purple sweater lay there,
Now on a corner shelf,
Neatly folded, and still waiting.
Even the store owners had forgotten about it.
So inconsequential it was in their lives.

On a cold winter's December morning,
An old, frail woman hobbled into the store,
Passing through every shelf, every sweater,
And every piece of clothing arranged neatly and tidily.

She finally stopped in front of the old sweater rack,
And extended her old, shaking hands
To the purple sweater.

Lovingly she took it and hugged it.
"At last, I've found you," she muttered,
Hobbling off to pay for it.

Thus, the sweater had finally found a place-
A special place where it was loved for and cared for.
The purple sweater had found a home.

Author's Note

This poem is dedicated to the person who gave me the title as a test for writing a poem/story: WriterMe