I have lived in places wiped flat to the ground,
walked on streets that no longer exist.
So many people have been woven through my life, 
more than I can count,
some whose name I can't remember,
some whose name I never knew;
too many of the most vibrant stitches
have been pulled from the cloth,
but they were there.
There were smiles and laughter;
I have pictures to prove they once existed.
My fingers trace the patterns, 
the colorful and the subdued.
Now and then there are holes, some small, 
others I can fit my whole hand through.
My grasp is not up to the task
of bringing it all together.
This blanket holds me close.
It appears infinite; 
I know it is not.
Someday, 
like the people and places
who have disappeared from my life,
I will become someone's memory.
But for now,
I am still here.

~Elise Skidmore ©2023

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