The Red Flannel Shirt

On a bleak, grey Saturday in the throws of fall, 

feeling so full of despair

I stand at the closet, scanning the rows, thinking, 

“Oh God, what do I wear?”

I scanned back at forth, hating each choice; 

but smiled when I saw it there.

So soft and so warm, just like an old blanket,

was my husband’s red flannel shirt.

I looked and I wondered if the shirt would look nice

Would a pair of my leggings and fuzzy boots suffice?

Could the shirt even fit, I’ve been feeling so fat

There’s only one way to be sure of all that

So on a bleak, grey Saturday in the throws of fall, 

a woman so full of despair

Took from the closet, a simple, worn shirt,

hoping her heart to repair

And well it did fit, it hung close to her knees,

with plenty of room to spare

She twirled and she danced; the mirror, it smiled,

at her in her husband’s ole faded shirt.

I stopped and I looked at the mirror so long

For that tender moment my heart was in song

My husband, he loves me;

My God knows my hurt

And I got the message

in a red flannel shirt.