![](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/a90b13_53cb3fe9b9d9478582d21234e6aa2437~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_350,h_347,al_c,q_80,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_avif,quality_auto/a90b13_53cb3fe9b9d9478582d21234e6aa2437~mv2.jpg)
Photography by Addison Lee, staff writer
Torn sleeves from hands wearing down
Passed past father-daughter bonds in threads
She was a small girl scared of monsters under the bed
Maybe she was a thief but cloth wrapped and loved till dawn
Ten years later and she still swims in its fabric
Limbs grown taller she now stands more evenly parallel
To the owner his aging to her is a bittersweet kind of unbearable
Cut threads softened from wear hanging gently on thin shoulders
Except now it doesn’t quite reach as far as her knees
From home to school it sees a new world
Canadian elwood she does not know
But only from stories passed down maple leaf trees
Live in spirit through song and bloodlines
A home she never knew but cannot forgo
Holey comfort it waits folded thickly in her closet
Deep dark that place is where time shuts down and pauses
Yet when wind bites and falling tears threaten
Sky screaming at her light
She knows its cloth won’t disappear
Sewn together it carries memories of father
And it cannot be erased
Neither during day nor night
Addison Lee is a writer and student from Southern California. Her work has been recognized by Scholastic and River of Words. In her free time, outside of writing, she loves to bake, watch rom-coms, and play the bass.
Comentarios