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It smells like memories
It is as white as the hospital sheets she slept in 
It’s a warm hug and she is next to me 
My top is a magical potion with endless possibilities
My top whispers and wakes me up at night,
Like the siren of the ambulance at 11:30 that gave me a fright
The shoe lace strings wrap around my head in bed.
Her cancer was adventurous and went everywhere it could
My top is as special as what she was to me. 






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This poem was awarded the Rex Prize (Primary) for Poetry Object 2019

'This poem gently and brutally expands the meaning of the word 'adventurous'. By personifying the shirt (it 'whispers', 'wakes me up'), the poet evokes a strong sense of the person who it originally belonged to. Small details of hospital sheets and ambulance sirens conjure a whole imagined world – this story is precious.'
~ Red Room Poetry and Regional Express Airlines