Comfort in Threads

From the back of my closet, it emerges,

a blanket, threadbare and faded,

its scent like a soft embrace,

wrapped around memories of quiet nights,

a sanctuary stitched from threads of comfort.

With every fold, I find pieces of self,

late-night confessions and laughter,

a friend said, "It holds warmth beyond wool,"

a comfort when everything felt too much,

like a reminder that I’m still here.