Image via Wikipedia
Image via Wikipedia
Image via Wikipedia
Quilt top (Photo credit: ejhogbin)
The night is dark
as the coolness creeps
through the windows
into the bones of the solitary woman as she writes.
Writes about the simple things, the joys of the day
solitude, quietude, soul-a-tune..solitary sacred quiet joys.
Remembering warmer, younger days as a child.
Days when she could say
Grandmother, could you tuck me in?
Can you tell me the stories
hidden in this quilt?
Would you tell me about the rocks, the trees, the stars?
Would you help the fever go?
Would you hold my hand while I sleep?
The pattern of the her life has changed
Now she is the great-aunt playing with the children.
She is the one telling the stories of the quilt
made by their great grandmother.
Settling down for a wee nap they ask
Could you hold my hand while I sleep?
I dream the stories you tell me.
One day when I am old like you…
I will tell the stories of the quilt.
I will hold the hands
of the wee ones while they sleep.
“Soon, I am waiting”….the blanket calls to her.
She surrenders to the Creator
In whose arms she will sleep.
Asking only on thing…
Would you hold my hand?
greatpoetrymhf
Beautifully done….great warmth and charm…
My goodness gracious, my Grandmother would say…..that is quite a compliment I enjoy your work and talent so very much High praise Thank you for your generosity of Spirit.
I am filling up here that is so beautiful and so beautifully written. Thank you.
Thank you dear heart, you deserve the love you give…
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