by Leonore Gordon
(Note: Aje means farewell in the African language
Aje, Blanket Friend
Aje, Old One,
soft against my five year old cheek,
my steady blue-quilted friend.
They say theyre taking you away
because youre old and full of holes,
and yes, thin as a spiders web shaken
by a cold wind.
They say I dont need you
anymore. They dont know.S¼
baby fingers gripping you tight,
stroking you over and over
night after night, until Id finally dream.
Aje, Friend. Remember cold winters,
when leafless trees leaned heavy,
and the wind played unwelcome drumbeats
against my bedroom window?
Youd sing me wordless blanket songs
until I slept.
Remember early bedtime,
in a not-quite-darkened room
when shadows danced from closet doors?
You, Old Blanket, wrapped yourself around my heart, and whispered me
Aje. Thank you. Aje.