The door yielded gently,
catching on the ruffled rug. Memories flew up, dust
dancing in a beam of sun
streak. A patchworked quilt of
recollections lay
crumpled on the bed, hues faded.
Soft curtains barred the light, muffling thought:
the air, cloaked in kindness,
hung soft.
Worn fingers had woven stories
in stitches, darns of in and out
throughout the turnaround of
time. Creases in her skin spoke of a weft of adventures
athwart the warp of years.
Holes in the heft of life, cobbled together by
the innocence of children, made
beautiful in gentleness.
Air breathed, dry papery with
age. Needles, thread, scissors
Beckoned on the dresser. Neglected
rag bag nestled next to embroidery silks
spilling joyously from their
box. An invitation: past to present, skill to artist’s
heart.
Silence smiled, remembering.
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