The people we meet in our lives
Are like patches.
Some dark, some bright.
Put together they
Form a patch work quilt.
Stories upon which our
Our lives are built,
Are like patches.
Some dark, some bright.
Put together they
Form a patch work quilt.
Stories upon which our
Our lives are built,
As we open the trunk to air old clothes,
Out comes this patchwork shroud.
So many faces from the past flit by
Forgotten moments come alive.
Each patch has a story to tell.
Of sunkissed childhood, raunchy youth, adventcherous marriage and soothing motherhood.
Of friends, families and dead parents.
So much of love weaved into the colourful threads.
To my patchwork quilt,
I'll not put you away in the tin trunk again ,
You will cover me with fond memories.
And remind me of how good my life has been.
