If I were a blanket, a quilt I’d be
With colors in soft pastels, maybe,
Patches in yellow and patches in pink.
For, once upon a time, I think
I was young, happy and oh-so-free
Embroidered with innocence, was that me?
Upon my frame, pretend keys, dishes, a doll
Proof that I, too, once was small.

The thread used to stitch me would be dark
Brown or maybe even black to mark
Innocence stolen, sadness, pain
Hidden beneath joy’s brightness, still a stain
A life sewn with both laughter and tears
Collected over high and low years

If I were a blanket, a quilt I’d be
Patches of my life sewn to see
A book, teddy bear, music note, cross, pen
Stitched symbols of where I’ve been
Memories laced together to agree
It’s a full life, dotted with fear, but colored with hope
Not chained by grief’s harsh rope

I’d be a pretty, soft quilt
To cover with comfort, not guilt.
A place to lay on outside
To stare at clouds, to set time aside
I’d also be a safe place to come hide
Until the many tears all dried
A quilt for babies to play on
A haven for hearts withdrawn

I’d be a quilt not to hang for show
But one to hug, one with which to grow
I’d be a quilt to keep you safe and warm
With memories to get you through the storm.
Not to put out of sight in a storeroom,
I’d be a beloved, handmade heirloom.
A piece lovingly made to hold,
To bring a patch of home in to console

If I were a blanket, my edges would be frayed
Slept under, sat on and well played,
For, in my stitches, would be sewn
The precious delights of a child never grown.