Oh, Blankets, the heavy, the light, the warm, the soft.
Why must I leave your folds of security?
You protect me throughout the dark, lonely night–
from the murderers who surely reside in the closet–
and keep me warm when I shiver.
Oh, Blankets, we've gone through a lot, have we not?
You have heard my thoughts before I fell asleep,
felt my tears after they rolled down my cheeks.
And you have felt the muscles in my face
when I went to sleep with beatific reflections and a smile.
Oh, Blankets, pulled up to my chin.
The morning sorrow I feel from slipping from your warmth.
The afternoon joy of coming home to you.
A comfort, a joy, a comforter.
How you complete me, oh Blankets.
