Poem: The Blanket by Mark Tulin

 

It’s not just a blanket

Of yarn and red silk

That her father

Bought for her to hold.

 

It covered her spirit.

It warmed her soul.

It protected her

From the monster’s shadows

That scaled

Her bedroom walls.

 

Although her father’s gone,

A piece of the blanket

Still remains.

The only thing left over

From the time

She was a fearful little girl.

©️mark tulin