Sunday, January 28, 2007


Ros has found this very sweet poem.....enjoy.

My Quilt

My neighbour is washing her windows
and scrubbing and mopping her floors
but my house is all topsy-turvy
and dust's behind all the doors.

My neighbour, she keeps her house spotless
and she goes all day at a trot,
but no-one will know in a fortnight
if she swept today or not.

The task I'm doing is enticing,
(my poor neighbour is worn like a rag)
I am making a quilt out of pieces
I've saved in a pretty chintz bag.

Oh, and this quilt, I know my descendants
will exhibit with pride in their hearts,
"It is lovely, my grandmother made it,
such an example of patience and art."

But will her grandchildren remember
all her struggles with dirt and decay?
They will not - they'll wish she had madethem
a quilt like I'm making today

1 comment:

keslyn said...

Love the poem, it is true for me.