Stitches

Stitches 

Swaddling babe on a cold winter night

Lay on a front porch, under a light.

No body’d wanted me.  Nobody’d cared.

One thing protected me: a quilt someone shared.

Pieces of cotton though very low cost,

Kept me from dying right there in the frost.

The inside was warm, as soft as a dove,

But outside was strong, with a backing of love.

From “Stitch-In-The-Ditch” to “Freemotion” style,

Types of stitching go on mile after mile.

The waft of fried chicken and Georgia peach tarts,

The age of this quilt showed the age of their hearts.

A rainbow surrounds me, so vivid and true,

From fluorescent orange to robins egg blue.

Tea cakes and coffee, a crackling white fire,

A dwindling art form they would not retire.

Purposeful stitching.  Each one had shared.

Lives will be changed because my life was spared.

I wrote this poem to describe the need for help. So many people are begging for love, the underclass, the working class, even the upperclass citizens. When we truly sew into people's lives, It lasts. Their life can be renewed, along with yours. Both hearts will be warmed. This will ultimately result in a domino effect that can potentially shed light and love to other people who are hurting and longing for love and peace.