Sitting in her rocker
Holding needle and some thread...
Her fingers tell a story
Without pen or pencil lead.
But written in the fabric,
Stories woven in her stitch...
While every block inside her quilt
Holds memories so rich.
Her stitches perfectly in line,
You'll find no flaw to see.
Her quilts are sewn by hand with care,
And not machinery.
Some look just like a garden
Filled with colors of the Spring.
Others feel like fluffy clouds
Which underneath I dream.
Such talent in her fingers,
Creating works of art...
The colors and the patterns blend,
The love poured from her heart.
For every stitch is sewn with more
Than just a piece of thread...
I'm sure she tucks some prayers in there,
Though she has never said.
Copyright
2002 by Melissa Rives