(Written about my son’s blankie. It was a special gift for when he was born and it survived so much. Now, it’s been retired to a box at his mom’s where it will stay safe. I’m sure blankie will be found again one day.)
*
His ever-present pal
Clutched with an iron grip
That rarely eases up
*
His favorite friend
That shares his every joy
Earning fraying edges
*
His consoling comrade
Easing all his pain
Absorbing all his tears
*
His secret stasher
Hiding food within its folds
That he chews on between meals
*
His constant copilot
Strapped in for all his trips
And shown the passing world
*
His sleeping sidekick
Tucked in beneath his head
Curling around his dreams
*
Never will he roam without
This cherished cloth he holds
He will always love his blankie
Legends of Windemere 
Aww.. So sweet!
My younger brother still has his baby blanket stashed somewhere.
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Think the last piece of mine got tossed years ago.
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Terrific poem. It would be nice to have a blankie.
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If only adults could get away with it.
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Would be nice.
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Loved this. My son had a blue blankie. He wore it down so much that I cut it in half so I could wash the other half, then cut it in quarters, then in eighths. In the end, he went to sleep holding a small scrap of it to his cheek.
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Thanks. I had a blue one that just dissolved over time. The last but got tossed one day.
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A lovely poem. It summarises what these comforters, whether bits of cloth or a beloved toy, (like my granddaughter’s rabbit) mean to a child.
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Thanks. 😊
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Adorable. I’m glad it’s stashed away and safe. Someday that will be a joy to pull out again. ❤
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It’s with my ex-wife though. So i can’t access it
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Oh. Hopefully your son will when he gets older.
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Hope so.
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This is wonderful, Charles.
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Thanks.
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You’re welcome.
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You’re welcome.
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