Monday, April 20, 2009

Patchwork quilt


Rushing to work one morning,
A splash of colours caught my eye.

On a clothesline strung between the corrugate wall of a shack,
And a nail hammered into a roadside tree,

Was strung a patchwork quilt far lovelier
Than any I had seen before.

No fancy shapes, no patented templates,
Just squares and rectangles in a pleasing array.

Leftover cloth was all that had been used,
The quilt was purely utilitarian.

Yet, it made me pause for a moment
As very few things make me do.

Was it beautiful because of the setting,
Or because it was so obviously cherished?


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