On Finishing an Old Quilt Top
Dear unknown Lady of the Past,
I hold your work within my hands;
A top with pattern gay and pure,
A frayed edge reveals loose strands.
The design is made of tiny scraps,
Set in a plain sugar sack ground.
Such tiny little stitches made -
A soft blue border sewed around.
Where did you sit while piecing this?
Upon a stool by firelight bright?
Or slowly rocking on the porch
As the tired day drew into night?
What were your cares while you did work?
What plans and dreams did you spin?
I wonder why your work was stopped,
Why quilting never did begin.
My mind is filled with questions.
Were you just a girl or someone's wife?
Was yours a path of leisure?
Or a journey filled with strife?
I'll quilt this top, dear lady,
With patterns swirled and flowery,
And bond with one I'll never meet
In a sisterhood of stichery.
Original work by A. Eelman