by Marjee K. Berry-Wellman
Wednesday, June 27, 2001
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A true story of a grandfather's love told poetically.
Today you are babies--three little girls
some days with straight hair, some days with curls.
Your granddad may seem like a face in a frame
a man with your genes and a common family name.
But he loves you so much though you live far apart
For you're stitched in his soul; you're a patch of his heart.
He has little to give in a material way
his funds don't stretch far; less is seems day by day.
But for months he read books, and he studied the art
of quilting, then set about sewing together each part.
His hands, huge and roughened from years of hard work
tenderly stitched--oh the patience it took.
Pinks, whites and mauves in a log cabin design
Each of you now can say "this quilt is mine".
The dark side shows hardships you'll face in your life
the light side the happier times without strife.
The red in the middle of each quilt square is
The heart of the family--you're the best part of his.
Granddad has plans for more quilts through the years
to brighten your lives and comfort your fears.
If there's one thing your granddad is quite famous for
it's his favorite saying--"there will be more".
If you look really close there are flaws--just a few
Those are "special touches" he put there for you.
There aren't many children who are able to boast
my granddad handmade me this quilt--he's the most.
He could have just bought you a toy from a shelf
but he wanted to give you a part of himself.
So snuggle up cozy and warm in your quilt
If it gets ripped or tattered, please don't feel guilt;
For Granddad wants you all to enjoy
the warmth of his quilts more than any old toy.
Stitched with love by Grandpa Craig Wellman
Christmas 2000, for Taylor, Sydney and Savannah
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|Reviewed by Victoria Murray
|Quilts, a fabric made by generations and passed down through generations...
|Reviewed by Nellie Feng
|Your Granddad's precious loving legacy behind shines in your writing.|
|Reviewed by Sandi Schraut
|My Grandma made quilts and my mother makes them they are works of love... just as this poem is a work of love.|