Weaved Comfort

Comfort is a state of mind

Or so I have been told

But the mind is unpredictable

Especially as we grow old.

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 Our mind holds all our memories

A library of sorts

With miles of endless catalogued aisles

With indexes of course

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Not indexed alphabetically

But by chronological events

My first memory of comfort would be

The newborn experience

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 N1 is how it’s indexed

New born, first memory

Reaction – Happy, comforted, safe

Setting – swaddled in a blanket, mother loving me 

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An endless number of memories

I could go on and on

But let’s condense this to

The challenge we are on.

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Over my life

I’ve come to know that

moments of comfort

Will come and go 

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Snippets of time

We hold so dear

Can give us comfort

Or torture with fear 

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The most constant comfort

I would have to say

Is when I am wrapped in a blanket

At any time of day

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In the morning with my first coffee

Gazing through the glass

Watching the sun shine bright

upon the dew kissed grass.

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On a cool , crisp fall evening

relaxing in my chair

with a warm cup of cocoa as

changing leaves float through the air 

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When it is time for sleep

tensions unwind 

I reach for my blanket

and relax my mind 

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There upon my dresser top

is the picture of my Mom and Pop

and at the tender age of 61

the most profound feeling of comfort

Is that first ..  Memory N1