In the beginning
when I was young
and when I was very cold,
I took my mammoth skin
and drew it closer about me
and found refuge in dreams.
Like a tourniquet
it stopped the flow of life
out of me.
Now I am old
and I huddle
still deeper in my woolen wrap.
Closing my eyes,
I discover refuge again in my dreams.
And find it stops
the flow of life out of me. Again.
Comforting and sad at the same time
The poem spans centuries. It is so, Maria. It is so.