A Grandma’s Quilts

She is the woman who runs the tiny post office,

In the very small town where I live.

Her life has not been easy;

A widow so young with four kids to raise,

Working the graveyard shift to make ends meet.

And now, she’s a post woman, and a grandma of nine.

She adheres to old values and passes them on with pride.

This grandma ties quilts, as her mother before her,

Each stitch and tie is made with love.

She uses what she has on hand,

From sales and bargains year round,

Her purchases are made when on sale by the yard,

Left over pieces are all kept for future use.

For a granddaughter struggling between childhood and growing up,

She found galloping horses, the child’s delight,

And that Christmas, that quilt,

Wrapped her up in love and assurance that life is good.

And a sweet young grandson, so afraid when young,

That the family would freeze to death,

In the long frigid mountain winters.

He marched his Christmas quilt straight out to the car,

With knowledge that no matter the weather,

All would be safe and warm.

And a quilt, of course, though the others were not sure,

For the almost grown granddaughter who was adopted years ago,

Who though struggling to find her way,

And causing the family great heartache,

Is so very loved, and so much in need to know that love.

Now offers have been made to buy these quilts,

By those who’ve experience their warmth,

But if done for pay the warmth would not be the same,

For the warmth truly comes from the love.