My Quilt- a poem

I have a quilt made over years,

The stitching, sometimes frail.

The colors once were vibrant yet,

With time, some have turned pale.

IT has no bearing on my love,

The age that now shows clear.

For every piece of cloth it holds,

Is yet a memory near.

IT seems that life is like a quilt,

We add more every day.

We gather pieces and apply

Them as we go our way.

At times of sadness, I reach out,

And wrap myself within

My quilt and threads of many years,

And cherish where I’ve been.

Retm