Photo by Darryl Willis | All Rights Reserved

Blanket Poem

for Britt

I had never seen anything
so small and spirited as you.
We pulled the blanket to your chin;
and you grasped the satin trim
as if to try to hang on life.
You were so independent
and strong willed. By age three
you quit your thumb on your own.

But what is plain, hides in sight.

Few could see the satin band
carried hidden in your hand.
Your life is now a crazy ride
with starts and stops and escapades.
But at night when no one sees
and you close your eyes in sleep
your hand still feels the silk beneath
the brushing of your fingertips.

To support the poet’s benign coffee addiction: Coffee.