No Longer a Child

No Longer a Child

A Poem by marielondon

This is a poem I wrote for English class about a blanket a always slept with growing up. Nothing too deep, just some memories.


I can still recall the clean, familiar smell.

I know nothing of my first night with the blanket,

It is hidden somewhere among the days,

Passed too long ago to remember.

But I cannot think of I time when I was tucked in without its company.



I can still feel it, the cool, waffle texture.

The pink faded softly into white as we sailed over the slow waves of time together.

My fingers fit perfectly, tucked into to the raggedy holes,

Safe all throughout the night.

But I remember the panic of waking without having it by my side.



The blanket grew older as I did.

Pieces became its body,

Tied together with the love of someone who wanted it to be whole again.

Though it was more difficult to hold close to my body as I slept,

I grasped it even more tightly.



Then one day, night came, and I was without my blanket,

Though not completely.

Its new home was in the top drawer of my dresser,

Hidden with my careful tenderness.

My sleepy hands reached for its comforting warmth and found emptiness,


I had grown up.

© 2011 marielondon

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Very original and sweet! I like how this one came together.

Posted 8 Years Ago

I used to have a Snoopy stuffed animal that I slept with as a little kid...I told myself I was going to sleep with it for the rest of my life, even when I went to college (which was as far into the future as I could imagine). I love how you describe the blanket in detail, especially the line "the pink faded softly into white..."

Posted 8 Years Ago

The last stanza really ties up the poem wonderfully, matching and mirroring each word. A piece like this doesn't need to be deep to have great expression. I really liked this! :)

Posted 8 Years Ago

Security blanket. I know them well. Sometimes these blankets are tangible as you state. Other times, these blankets are abstract in nature. A security blanket could be only associating with certain types of people, only going in environments that you've been in before. Never allowing yourself to taste different things or experience new things. I think I have many. I like the optimism in this piece. Thought it hurt to let go, you in the end put the blanket away. I see no harm in materialistic blankets, so I would have kept it. The abstract ones are the hardest to rid yourself of.

Posted 8 Years Ago

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4 Reviews
Added on May 19, 2011
Last Updated on May 19, 2011
Tags: memories, childhood, blanket, growing up, identity, comfort, adulthood



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