The New Year's Quilt

The New Year’s Quilt Unfolding, for this infant year, slips of Freshly ironed, but under-valued cotton. A saffron skirt, sprigged with ‘forget-me-nots blue,’ Sadly abandoned - forgotten, Now, bundled in a bag of rags, On the top shelf of a cupboard. Whilst I, akin to Mother Hubbard, Search my store, For more. The cover from my dumpling daughter’s cot. Can I bear to cut this treasured wrap? Beloved, clutched hot-fisted. Stroked throughout the night - Her comforter, this cotton scrap. Mike’s floral shirt, once fashion’s height How ‘fab’ we were, and oh, so cool. The whole world then, was ours to rule. We were young, And strong. Gathering scissors, templates, threads and pins, Fragrant, laundered fabrics, in a pile. Now, trace each sharply angled, showy shape Then, as I cut the fabrics - smile, And neatly ply the measuring tape. Place each piece, the pattern forming Forty years of memories. Warming, Now we’re older - And colder.