This Blanket

This Blanket

This is your other wedding present.
It is not a quilt. It is not
fancy. It is the plainest
cotton blanket I could find.
It is a blanket to be
thrown into the car at the last minute,
tossed over a sleeping visitor,
spread out on the grass,
soft on the dampening ground
at a concert under the stars.
It is not a blanket to worry about.
With holes, snags, and stains,
it will still be for nights
when the chill comes up quickly
but you want to stay
just as you are,
where you are,
together.

(The prompt this week over at Poetry Thursday
involves folks donating lines to the cause...
I'm offering up "when the chill comes up quickly,"
and I may try to write a piece for Thursday
using a line someone else has offered up.)