Baby Blanket

Soft, smooth but crumpled,
And the soft, soothing smell only I recognise.
I have loved it all my life,
But I barely know what it looks like,
The precious smell is enough.
I hate it when it gets washed,
The fragile smell disappearing,
Overpowered by the scent of soap.
Under the covers it sits,
Every minute, hour, day.
I take in its fragrance,
It calms me down,
Reminds me of the times,
Holidays in China, Fiji, Bali.
Now it is too cherished to take anywhere.
This, I must keep safe.
This, is my treasure.
My blanket.