Her Quilt

My wife is quite a quilter, and I used to enjoy going to quilt shows to see the work of other women.  I always thought a quilt displayed a woman's art, her self, because one's art should always express one's self.  Once I was quite impressed by a quilt with a Christmas tree in its center.  The woman who made it was married on Christmas Day, so the quilt reflected her married life.  When I went home I wrote this poem:

I stood there looking

into her handiwork.

She had painted a picture

of who was she and hers.

Her love was there

and she spoke to me

of her love of sixty years.

Her theme was simple and clear

a symbol of her togetherness

with hers, of years of love,

of tears, joy, hope and sorrow,

all mixed up in the colors,

but most of all the Christmas tree,

under which it all began.

“But you don’t know her” someone said,

as I wiped my watering eyes.

Oh no, I said, I know not her name;

but I know her just the same.

You see I know her Art,

and I see her love, it’s there

in her quilt, before our very eyes.

Yes friend, I have never met her.

But I know her deep inside.

You see I saw her there,

that day I viewed her love.

It was written in the stitches.

I stood there with her soul,

and truly her soul touched mine.

            `           October, 1993