– 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.