You pulled the blanket off my couch, wrapped it around,
I said that's mine, you said so's the ground,
I said give it back, you said come and get it,
I said you're impossible, you said I'll admit it.
You curled up in it, only your face showed,
I said you look like a burrito, you said I know,
I said move over, you said no room,
I said then share, you said assume.
I sat on the other end, you stretched your feet,
I said your toes are cold, you said that's neat,
I said get them off, you said make me,
I said fine, then didn't move, let it be.
That blanket held us both the whole night through,
You could've shared it, but you didn't want to,
You said come and get it, I said you're impossible, you said I'll admit,
Your feet stayed there — neither of us quit,
The night is done — but that blanket's still warm from you.
Later you fell asleep, I didn't wake you,
I sat there still, didn't know what to do,
I pulled the blanket up over your chin,
You murmured something — I said nothing, let it in.
In, dawn breaks, that blanket's on my couch,
But your sleeping face — still here, no doubt.
