blanket fort (the white blanket goes over the taller chair sideways.)

The white blanket goes over the taller chair sideways
The red scratchy one goes over the white blanket
Both patterned blankets cover the sides.
The motions are familiar, able to be picked up rather quickly,
The skill having been left on the bottom shelf with those beginner reader books
And faded nintendo ds game boxes.

The blankets have changed now, chairs just the same
Your father jokes every now and then, when the wind gets too cold,
That you could build a fort out of blankets
Like the cosy ones we used to make, hed say,
And suddenly,
And suddenly.

The windows are bigger,
Living room wider.
A fireplace full of pictures, carpet faded from the sun
Sounds of foxes down the back of the garden ring through the grass
The hallways tight with cabinets and shelves of places youve yet to hear of.
The air feels cold, as it always does on the stone tile floor of this place.

So the white blanket goes over the taller chair sideways
The red scratchy one goes over the white blanket
Both patterned blankets cover the sides.
The build is big enough for you and your father,
Both sitting inside, close, warm.

You suddenly feel a longing.
You long to see those blankets again.
To see those chairs in formation as they once were.
To slide down the front of the white leather couch.
To quietly hear your parents talking in the other room from your walled bed.
To bound up the stairs in front of your apartment leading to the stone path to the garage.

You long to live the life you were too young to know.

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