The Blanket

Into it I lean
It is the warmth of the morning
The shield of the night
And a casual shake of the afternoon
A gradual choke in an empty room
Something that lovers like to rename
A covering made out of passion
I know you know it too
Like delay from early rising
The things that knit bags under the eyes
The yearnings of a misguided heart
We try, but we still go under
Hands crawling up to touch
Feet digging out the fire
This blanket is a breathing one.

Vera