Precious Fabric

She lays it out before her
Gently smoothing out wrinkles,
As her eyes travel over the cloth

There are holes,
Ragged edges cut or torn,
Some mended with fragile strands,
Haphazardly strewn throughout,
But she passes over them

Her fingers linger on parts woven
With Love and passion,
Delicate stitching in fine thread,
And she feels their lifeblood pulsing
Through her skin,
Warming her heart this cold morning.

Tenderly she folds the fabric
Hiding the tatters and tears,
Leaving a favoured part in view,
Brushing it lovingly against her cheek
Before placing it carefully in a drawer
With those that came before it.

It was a year woven through hardship
But tempered with Love,
And it was well worth the weave.



january 2008
Janet Reid







Awarded by Poetic Constellations ~ Jan 11, 2008