A ragged quilt  covers my bed.
It’s almost thread-bare in places;
it was quilted by Mama and Grandma
and I can still see their faces
beaming with happiness
and shining with joy and pride
as they stitched and they laughed
while they worked side by side.
What will my daughter remember–
the thought whirls through my head,
as I spread the wool blankets
atop her water-bed?

© Freeda Baker Nichols

14 comments on “Heirloom

  1. Gayle says:

    Freeda, I have a quilt that was pieced by my grandmother from scraps of my dresses (baby to abour 4, I think). As I look at it, I remember some of the dresses, so it’s kind of special to me. My Aunt-in-law hand quilted it for me years later, so it’s really a ‘family’ heirloom now.


  2. Dot Hatfield says:

    So cute, Freeda. Don’t we wonder about our grandkids who probably couldn’t figure out a rotary phone. Or an old fashioned can opener, which I have had to use in emergency a couple of times.


  3. Ginger Kemp Pruett says:

    Now how did you get the water drops to come down? So appropriate for this poem. I like this one very much


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