It might seem silly to write an ode to an old, hole-filled comforter, but if one of my favorite poets of all time can write one of my favorite poems of all time to a pair of socks, I figure, why can't I?
It was just a simple comforter, a queen-sized big old green comforter with the white silhouettes of tropical flowers, but since when I was just barely a teen it's been there for me, providing warmth and downy comfort in the winter and even through the hot days of summer. Throughout high school, college, bad break-ups and even cancer, it's always been there for me, the green and white patterns on its face reminding me of happier times that have gone and happier times promised to come. But after so many years, and after so many holes, its time has come.
So thank you, to a simple piece of woven blanket, for being there when it most mattered.