My grandmother made me a quilt before I was born.

Blues and greens greeted me into this world,

Helped me learned how to crawl, my first word, how to walk.

A labor of love, created for the idea of a human,

I wasn’t real and tangible when she started sewing, but still, she sewed.

At the moment I don’t think she knew how much that quilt would mean to me.

Hold it to my cheek and the worries leave my body,

The cool fabric lowers my body temperature and suddenly I’m a baby again,

Filled with so much love, untouched by the sullied hands of this world.

An ocean of protection, keeping me safe at night.

I love that quilt, and it loves me too.


3 thoughts on “Quilt

  1. this is one of those poems that need no words, or rather no words are enough to really tell how touching it was… the imagery and the emotions conveyed, all done so beautifully. so I will just leave another heart here…

  2. I make quilts for all of my grandchildren. This poem finds me with two three month olds that I need to get myself together and make quilts for! My older grandchildren, some are now in college, love their quilts like you do yours. Some of them anyway.

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