|
Her hands
were frail
what seemed like just
blue veins covered
with a
thin layer of skin
She spoke
in hushed tones
yet somehow her words
always rang
clear
crisp and to the point
never hurried
Like her
words
so were those frail hands
the needle always found its
mark
every stitch precise
she was our leader
the head of
our Quilting Bee
She brought
together
four generations of quilters
we met each Saturday
night
quilting through weddings
divorces,
graduations
births and of course deaths
she helped us sew the
ties that
bound not only threads of cloths
but our
souls
She passed
away last week Tuesday
we covered her in our quilt
on Saturday
we started a new quilt
we added new cloth to
the quilt she
left behind
and with precision our needles
filled with
thread,
bound our cloths
together for
eternity
Sonrisa ©
Back To The Directory of Poems by Jacqueline
Bailey
|