As in my bed this morning I lay
Thru my windows I could tell it was going to be gray
I snuggled back down, as sometimes I wilt
Rubbing my hand over my grandma's quilt


So many years have gone by since she left
For a long time my family was bereft
For she was the matriarch of our clan
But at ninety-four she finished God's plan


We found a trunk in an attic room
Along with her quilt rack in the gloom
The trunk was full of quilts she made
Patchwork and patterns, colors of every shade


One whose quilt blocks had a name of a friend
Embroidered each with her very own hand
Others with wedding ring designs
And one of them I kept as mine


There was always an old patchwork pad
On the porch swing, gone now, sad
She made matching seat pads in a pair
For her favorite rocking chairs


I miss my Grandma everyday
But my quilt reminds me in every way
That she had these quilts in her life story
Bet she's the best quilt maker up in Glory



By susi Taylor (Texaswishr@aol.com)


 











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