I pulled it from the closet thick with dust

I pulled it from the closet, thick with dust,

a blanket of love, old threads that rust.

Each frayed edge whispers of stories long told,

as rain patters softly, a shiver from cold.

It wraps me in warmth, like arms that once held,

comforting echoes where silence expelled.

In the dampness, it hugs me, a childhood embrace,

reminding me softly of a time and a place.