Gentle Memories
I found it on a table at the auction;
Such a sad and forlorn old quilt, all worn and stained,
But it seemed a host of memories lingered around it
As if the ghost of all who'd used it still remained.
In my mind I saw a woman bending over it
As she made the tiny stitches with such care,
And the joy and pride it brought her to display it.
Across the spare room bed when guests were there.
Or perhaps a young girl made it for her dowry
While dreaming of the life that lay ahead.
Did her dreams come true, or turn to disappointment
When the quilt was new and proudly graced her bed?
'Tis old and shabby; nothing now of beauty
Remains about this torn and tattered thing,
But it must have once been someone's proud possession,
And about it gentle memories seem to cling.