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Quilted Heart
January 15, 2016
Up in the attic,
Packed away in a box,
Was a small piece of fabric
That once meant a whole lot.
This cloth was like no other,
As it was shaped as a heart,
A gift from my grandmother,
That resembles a work of art.
It was once so vibrant with color,
But now as the years go by,
This quilted heart begins to get duller,
I cannot help but start to cry.
This is the last connection to my grandma,
Entwined throughout is her love,
She will always keep reminding me of us,
And all the good times when we made quilted hearts.
© Molly H., Lynden, WA
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