In my writing workshop yesterday, we did an exercise based on this poem.
The assignment was to write different ways of looking at the same thing.
This is my stab at it.
A cardigan lying haphazardly on the arm chair,
a discarded relic of the workday.
Cashmere against her skin
of all that is right with the world
Pulled tight against the rushing wind.
My sweater is too thin and I am cold.
A v-neck in coral. Casual but not sloppy.
Perfect for her first date
with her future husband.
Cableknit hangs from her thin frame
as she waits for the bus,
her breath coming in tufts.
The must wool scratched his face as he hugged her.
Grandma’s house was weird.
Color coordinated, floating
on padded hangers.
A sweater emporium in my closet.
Over the top characters in over the top sweaters.
A Christmas tradition.
Paired with a pipe, his argyle vest
he is sufficiently intellectual.