Lyric

The shirt was face down

Near the foot of the bed

One sleeve turned backward

One button showing

I saw it at breakfast

Then stepped around it

Like the floor

Had made a decision

The collar touched dust

At the edge of the rug

The tag pointed up

With small instructions

I could have bent down

I could have fixed it

I had both hands

And nowhere to go

A Shirt on the Floor

Was not enough to fix

Not enough to ruin

Just enough to stay

A Shirt on the Floor

Between bed and basket

I stepped over it once

Then learned the route

By noon it looked normal

Which made it worse

One sleeve in the walkway

One cuff under the chair

I carried a plate past it

I carried my phone past it

I carried myself past it

With less each time

The basket sat open

Beside the closet

Ready for work

I never assigned

The hanger waited empty

With its metal neck

Tilted toward nothing

Inside the room

Wash cold

Turn inside out

Do not bleach

Dry flat

Remove promptly

Reshape by hand

Use mild soap

Avoid excess heat

Wash cold

Turn inside out

Do not ask much

Do not need much

Handle gently

When possible

Fold if able

Store when done

I did not pick it up

I did not look away

I made a small path

Around one small thing

A Shirt on the Floor

Kept its place

Kept its shape

Kept my delay

I told myself later

Then stepped to the door

Later got longer

Across the floor

The cotton held wrinkles

From a previous day

Creased at the middle

Like it had waited well

A pocket hung open

With nothing inside

Not even a receipt

Not even a pen

I checked the drawer

For a clean one instead

Took the easier shirt

And left that one down

The room did not change

The problem stayed small

That was the part

I could not explain

It was only fabric

A sleeve

A collar

A tag

A button

One small item

Outside its place

But I kept finding it

With my feet first

Morning after morning

Task after task

It became part

Of how I crossed the room

Not furniture

Not trash

Just something undone

That learned my route

I did not pick it up

I did not look away

I made a small path

Around one small thing

A Shirt on the Floor

Kept its place

Kept its shape

Kept my delay

I told myself later

Then stepped to the door

Later got longer

Across the floor

I finally moved it

Three feet to the chair

Not to the basket

Not to the wash

Just higher than before

Just less in the way

A small promotion

For an unfinished thing

The floor looked clearer

The room did not

The chair took over

Without complaint

I stood there looking

At the empty spot

Then looked at the chair

And called it progress

A Shirt on the Floor

Became a shirt on a chair

Not enough to fix

Just enough to count

A Shirt on the Floor

Was not the whole weight

But it knew where to sit

When I could not