37. Scraf

I've written before about scarves in France. For some reason Megan and I have started calling ours "scraf."

First scraf

The scraf I used to have was midnight blue

of linen, with a coarse but supple weave.

I lost it drunk, as drunks are wont to do

in Marrakech, while fêteing New Year's Eve.

My second scraf was black and grey, with fringe

and stood me in good stead through Winter's cold.

Abandoned now, I feel a guilty twinge

but far too warm it is while Spring grows bold.

Second scraf

My current scraf is cotton, pale and grey

and sits about my neck like foggy air.

It accents well the clothes I wear each day

and Megan says it compliments my hair.

Current scraf

I'll leave croissant, rillette, and French behind

But still around my neck a scraf I'll wind.