Array ( [sid] => 132299 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Old Quilts, Tattered and Torn [time] => 2007-03-02 10:57:10 [hometext] => I collect quilts. I have some in perfect condition, but love those that are tattered and torn the most, because i think every quilt could tell a story. [bodytext] => I love old quilts, all tattered and torn.
They speak to me. I know they are worn,
But I think of the people they kept warm at night,
Perhaps in a cabin near a firelight.

I think of a couple, just starting their life
Together in marriage. I think that they might
Have lain ‘neath a quilt at night, in the dark,
Planning the life on which they’ve embarked.

I think of the babies who might have been born
Beneath that same quilt, now tattered and torn.
I think of that couple, no more newly wed,
Now living the life of a family, instead.

I think of the times the children were sick.
I think of the worry that would inflict
On both of the parents who loved them so much
As they laid ‘neath that quilt with the comforting touch

Hard work and worry made the couple so tired.
At night, after working so very hard
They would fall into bed underneath that same quilt
Perhaps on a bed the husband had built.

And, after years of a long hard life,
I think of that husband, I think of his wife
As she placed that same quilt on her husband, so dear.
She knew that the end of his life was near.

Now I have an old quilt, so tattered and torn,
Under which lives were built and babies were born,
Where tired bodies rested and old bodies died.
I display that wonderful old quilt with pride.


Copyright © 2007 Janet Yaeger
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 797 [topic] => 31 [informant] => Janet [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Old Quilts, Tattered and Torn


Old Quilts, Tattered and Torn
Date: Friday, 2nd March 2007 @ 10:57:10 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Janet
I love old quilts, all tattered and torn.
They speak to me. I know they are worn,
But I think of the people they kept warm at night,
Perhaps in a cabin near a firelight.

I think of a couple, just starting their life
Together in marriage. I think that they might
Have lain ‘neath a quilt at night, in the dark,
Planning the life on which they’ve embarked.

I think of the babies who might have been born
Beneath that same quilt, now tattered and torn.
I think of that couple, no more newly wed,
Now living the life of a family, instead.

I think of the times the children were sick.
I think of the worry that would inflict
On both of the parents who loved them so much
As they laid ‘neath that quilt with the comforting touch

Hard work and worry made the couple so tired.
At night, after working so very hard
They would fall into bed underneath that same quilt
Perhaps on a bed the husband had built.

And, after years of a long hard life,
I think of that husband, I think of his wife
As she placed that same quilt on her husband, so dear.
She knew that the end of his life was near.

Now I have an old quilt, so tattered and torn,
Under which lives were built and babies were born,
Where tired bodies rested and old bodies died.
I display that wonderful old quilt with pride.


Copyright © 2007 Janet Yaeger


This poem is Copyright © Janet


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