Tag Archive | comfort

Familiar Comfort


For two decades it has provided warmth.

Though now covered by a more fashionable gold brocade comforter, it is still there, familiar, comforting, consistent.

It has become somewhat frayed by time and use and moves and stains that needed washing.

On the colder nights it is not enough to keep the winter at bay.

But it is always there and always has been.  It is known.  It is part of life.  And there are times when its familiar softness

Makes the winter much much easier to bear.





I cannot guess

Why my hands began to


Of their own accord.

There was no encouragement,

No request,

No perceptible call.

And yet they reached,

Hoping to…


Perhaps it was

The kindred pain

They they perceived.

Are they too worn?

To unrefined?

Are the arms,

The legs,

The neck,

The breasts….

To which they are attached

To marked and changed

With life?

Or does it have nothing to do

With my hands

Or their companions 

At all?

And why

Do they feel compelled

To reach