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Writer's pictureRedstockings Chronicle

Warmth Wrapped


When the sun is concealed and running

clouds are found panted,

I take refuge in my mother; my cozy blanket.

After facing the ruthless world, she embraces

me with her dulcet lullaby and soft stroke,

like we are in a movie romantic,

So warm is my mom, my living

cozy blanket.

When outside it glooms and grief seems

gigantic,

I run in the arms of my solace,

my cozy blanket

Even when I return; repel or enchanted,

My eternal home is my birthgiver,

my cozy blanket

For cold extrinsic, she shields me, dresses me

up with confidence shaped jacket,

My guiding force is my creator; my cozy blanket.

When the stone hearted world leaves me stranded,

I confide in her tenderness, my cozy blanket

She enlightens me, imbibes me with wisdom

and benevolence is held by her, my cozy blanket.

When the orchestra of the world, brings out in me

the melody of ranket,

she is always in the audience applauding the loudest,

my cozy blanket.

- Ananya Sacheti, Bharati College


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