yet her heart in its many years stands gracefully still.
Her eyes have lost their keen vision to connect the needle with the thread,
yet her spirit can see the glistening of life's beauty that is ahead.
Her strength is slowly unraveling making her too weak to spend hours on her work,
yet the hems of her soul are still as strong as her worth.
Her outer beauty has lost it's luster, like the fading of a cloth,
yet underneath her beauty is greater than it was.
I can see her life now as not an ending sunset, but instead the beginning of the dawn,
for underneath a faded quilt the stitches still stand strong.
For Aunt Margaret