Gargi

It was a blanket given to me by my mum,
Which was taken by me to every place under the sun.
At its arrival light pink in colour was what I saw,
Sewn with my name and birth details, I was in awe.
First called ‘gaga’ then called ‘gargi’,
This blanket really meant the world to me.
It protected me and kept me safe,
This blanket really was my best mate.
I would rub it and suck it and drag it on the ground,
Stretch it and poke it and kick it around.
Day by day gargi became threadbare,
From light pink to dirty pink, holes were formed everywhere.
But as years passed by and my blanket grew old,
I slowly forgot about my blanket that I used to hold.
It became less important and less special to me,
Because as I grew my blanket didn’t protect me as you see.
Unlike when I was young, these days I don’t need gargi as much as I once did
Instead I keep it high in my cupboard but never should I get rid
Of this beautiful blanket that carried many memories and great times.
That I would never forget for my whole entire life.