– To Jamie, with love.


She gave me a blanket, my sister so sweet,

Of blue, cream and ochre, to put on my feet.


And happy was I at the sweet thought of this,

– Warm nights now to come, all wrapped up in bliss!


So I laid my new blanket on a chair and I took

A pillow, and glass, and a nice looking book.


And when I came to my chair in peace to repose

I found that dear blanket – stolen! Right under my nose!!


And across the room, so happy I see

A certain daughter of mine, cheeks shining rosily!


Happily humming, and cozily huddled,

Enveloped in softness so sweetly she cuddled


And what do I see – “My Blanket!” I cried,

but sweetly she looked, and sadly she sighed.


Regaining that blanket, my couch now I took,

And remembered that I had forgotten to look


So again to my shelf away now once more,

I went for the book I had left there before


For that other good quote I had wanted to find,

The case of the blanket had robbed from my mind


And the tome now regained I come back and I find,

That boy (Scoundrel!) So angelic, reclined


Upon that sweet blanket, that once I called mine,

For a sweet precious moment, a second in time


And I sit down beside that boy and I pull

For a corner of blanket and sweet warming wool


I reach over my boy for the book and I sigh

As I take up my glass, and I lift up my eye


And I see a whole house full of things once thought “mine;”

Trinkets, and curtains, and runners of twine


I see that among all these things I now find,

My treasures are shifted, and different in kind


They have hairs that they shed, and leave on the sink,

And soft glowing eyes that glisten and wink


They have clothes that are strewn all over the room

They wear my mascara, and spill my perfume


They are big, and so tall, and they eat all the day

And who knows what mice do while the cats are away


But they giggle, and laugh, and fill my whole space

With joy, and with life, and a beautiful grace


They are bold, and they’re brave, they’re growing in heart,

And little by little are becoming their part


And to these – my new treasures, my old treasures yield,

Priorities shifted, I till a new field


For how can a blanket ever compare

To the boys and the girls whose life I can share?


How can a mere pleasure once sweet in my eyes

Bring life a new meaning, true riches comprise?


So softly my blanket and couch I do give

And find though surrendered – somehow – richer I live.



~ Watergirl


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