Balou

The color of my favorite shirt,
It's a worn and faded blue.
An eagle spread across it's back,
It still feels like you.
The stain on its collar,
Where the blue has turned to white.
No amount of detergent,
Could ever make it right.
The spot just near the belly,
From where I spilled a coke.
And now every time you tickle me,
The spot is exactly where you'd poke.
The color of my favorite shirt,
The softest, loving blue.
An eagle spread across it's back,
Connecting me and you.





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