My Papa Cec's Prayer Shawl

The prayer shawl folded in its bag
The tallis of my father’s father
Idle as an unwound watch
Longing for its owner’s touch

It remembers the good old days
Of flapping around in the air
As it danced with my grandfather around the altar
But those days are gone

It remembers wrapping around him
As he stood solemnly in prayer
Its holy black and silver embellishments on display
But those days are gone.

It remembers him reading the Torah
Its stringy hair wrapped around his index finger
As he sings the holy words
But those days are gone

Now all it does is sit still
As it talks to its friend the kippah, the holy cap
Missing the days
Of a long lost joyous past