Grandma’s Tiny Stitches

Her page the quilt, she hummed
a hymn and stitched neat squares,
sketched scenes with needle pen.
She tied her knots tightly…
all part of ‘knowing who you are’.

I knew her lap,
the softest spot on earth,
but I never knew her dreams.
Maybe she gave them to her children,
six she raised all by herself.

She kept them warm in homemade quilts,
taught them faith and fed them
and never said a word
about life being hard. Everyday
she counted blessings; Everyday
she thanked the Lord.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s