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Poem

I dreamt of a blanket once
On a cold winter's night
Complexity in colors
And a lovely pattern
 
A patchwork like my own
Or so it seemed
Long for a bed
And lean rounded corners
 
So warm it looked 
So comforting and soft
Draped over a statuette
Of a winking cherub
 
But whose blanket is this? 
Could it be mine?
Who am I to want it, 
A salmon among the otters
 
But then I woke, it was summer
I let the questions slip away
It may seem the time to ask
But I do not need a blanket
 
The breeze will tell me
Should a swan land on my pond
And I will have no more need
For dreams and questions

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