The Blanket

When I was born I received a treasure
Something that would be precious forever
When I first saw it, it didn’t seem like much
But it was the last thing my great-grandma touched

My mum laid it on me when I was 4 days old
And since that first winter, its protected me from the cold
She had a tradition with all children, great and grand
I am lucky that a blanket ended up in my hand

She wouldn’t make a blanket until the baby came along
But deep in her heart she knew something was wrong

Unfortunately, Hannah was very sick
And a week before she died she told my mum about it
When they went to South Africa after she died
My mum and dad saw the pieces and they both cried

We still own the last unfinished square
When the ambulance came they found it there
It had dropped from her hands just before she passed
Of all the blankets she made, this was her very last

The blankets now old and constantly frays
It was once white but is now shades of greys
My grandma in Perth knows how to sew
And every time we visit, she fixes a row.

If I can manage to keep the blanket as one
I can pass it down to my first daughter or son
A family treasure, so precious and fine
Not worth much but so glad it’s mine