A blanket of comfort

hanging in the closet.

my body longs

for the warmth it brings

morning after morning.

Ordinary in every way,

torn in all the right places.

I slip it over my head

and I feel it all;

I remember it all.

We are in your car

and it’s late;

there’s nowhere to go.

So we sit

hands intertwined,

the hours pass by,

looking down

I pull at the threads.

You lean in slowly,

but carefully

and I turn my head.

My cheek catches your lips.

I open the car door;

the winter wind cuts through my body.

I pull the sleeves over my hands.

Now in bed,

it clings to my torso.

This memory lives

in my sweater.

r.m.h.