Blanket

How loving the mother’s womb,

Where amniotic fluid’s comfort

Is left behind for the warmth

Of one’s first blanket,

A baby’s first interaction with swaddling clothes.

Suddenly…

An entire family of blankets

Introduces themselves;

The hospital nursery,

The breastfeeding periods,

The journey back home,

The baby’s protective crib

Welcoming its new tenant.

Through growing years of winter cold

Into lighter seasons of cover,

A blanket of one sort or another

Remains at the ready;

Afghan on the couch,

Irish wool on the bed,

Cotton weave at the beach.

Later…

Senior years find woven covers

Used through the years

Now of faded color,

Threadbare patches,

And a lifetime of memories.

Many a final breath

Raises a blanket,

Ever so little,

Acknowledging the journey

Is ending.

Often…

This most faithful friend

Is folded,

Packed,

And given covered rest of its own,

Engulfed by other friends of experience.

In the attic memoirs.

A family’s mausoleum of sorts,

Remaining but a few steps skyward

Atop the present generation continuing love affair

With the blankets of loving comfort.