A Villanelle: "Her Sweater..."

 I meant to post this with companion poems, but I struggle to finish my writing. More to come in time.

Her Sweater Smells Like Pencil Shavings and Old Crayons

By Elena Herman

"Warmth is when your memory makes a friend,"

like her sweater: pine hug in cotton blend.

Then I lost it and I watched the year end.

The lost-and-found had ones in orange and red,

So I bused home rubbing my prickled arms.

"Warmth is when your memory makes a friend."

It was weird to wear it anyways, when

I had a feeling that was the last time--

Then I lost it and I watched the year end.

That night she cried in the dark like a crime.

I think it again. Her arms were so warm.

"Warmth is when your memory makes a friend."

I found her sweater by a pine root's bend,

still with the note I used to keep inside:

"warmth is when your memory makes a friend."

Then I lost it and I watched the year end.