Pashmina

She takes the shawl

in her hands

admiring its simplicity,

respects its shade of mud

its patterns

of delicate intricacy,

loves the muted tones

of yellow, green, red

of threads in its embroidery,

runs a finger over

the meticulous design

across the narrow periphery,

elevating this simple gift

high above her eyes

amazed by its beauty,

feeling its softness

on each cheek

melting in its velvety,

made from soft hairs

of hardy beast of Himalaya

that is its specialty,

its warmth, its softness

known around the land

famous across boundary,

she holds the fabric

to her chest

valuing its austerity,

she brings the shawl

to her nose

drinking aromas spicy,

buries her face

in its warmth

revering its intensity,

drapes the shawl

over her shoulders

Snuggles

In its healing comfort

Its quiet affection

Its loving melody.