T Shirt Ritual

By John I. Blair

Today I held
A fabric ceremony,
A T shirt ritual.

After years untold
Some cozy clothing
Had reached a point

At which my arms stuck out
In places not intended
To have openings.

All my life I’ve been
Loyal to my garb
Beyond the edge of sense

But there comes a time
When sense prescribes
An end to things.

So when I donned
My holey shirt this morning
And felt a scrap of cloth

Flapping in the breeze
From the ceiling fan
I knew what I had to do.

©2017 John I. Blair, 5/19/2017