MY Quilt

Feeble hands old and sore,
not as strong anymore.
Took the needle and thread,
and stitched the quilt together.

Patches sewn with Love,
and stained with tears;
that were shed.
She was old in years,
but full of wisdom in her head.

In every patch I could see,
how much my Grandmother meant to me.
The quilt covers my bed,
with warmth and security.

In my bed when I lie within,
on a cold winter day;
pulled all the way,
to my chin.

The memories,
the stories, they are for us.
About my Grandma Moses.