While going through some things in my parent's old farmhouse last week, we came across this unfinished quilt top. We aren't sure who it belonged to or how old it is. It inspired me to write this poem.
The Old Quilt
I wonder whose fingers stitched such intricate strands,
did it belong to my mother, grandmother, or to someone else,
this treasure unearthed in the old farmhouse,
These old worn fabrics from days gone by,
cause me to ponder and wonder why…
this quilt was never finished, why it lies undone,
did the cares of life take over the fun,
was this lady like me with projects galore,
too numerous to finish, yet always starting one more,
Was her life fraught with problems that I also share,
like me, did she stitch to forget her cares,
did she quietly reflect upon God’s amazing grace,
as she guided her needle at a steady pace,
Was this quilt pieced together to cover a bed,
or for the couch was it supposed to be a spread,
perhaps it was intended for a brand new bride,
or to keep legs warm on a winter's carriage ride,
Did her hands grow tired and weary with age,
did health issues afflict her and take center stage,
Did her life on earth end while in the midst of the task,
so many questions I wish I could ask…
of this unknown lady of generations past.
