You run to your room and grab
your pink blanket. Clumsily,
with chubby hands and feet,
back to the living room and lie
on the spread-out cotton.
Two hands appear at your toes
and two more near your head.
You swing, left and right. Giggles escaping
from your belly. Hearty laughs
echoed around the apartment.
Right before dinner, the door clicks open and
you run into open arms that swing you up,
off the floor. You watch, captivated
by the characters on the screen
as a spoon floated towards your mouth.
The balcony danced amongst stars
as the gentle breeze rocked you
in steady arms. You hide between
drying clothes, blowing out bubbles
that floated to faraway lands.
But the days grow shorter and your patience too
wondering why these questions are necessary.
The peaceful nights of quiet are long gone,
with no one to comfort you except
the pink blanket that wraps around you,
Too short to cover your feet.
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