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Grandmother’s embroidery,
By some considered fine art,
Framed, hung for posterity,
Pithy sayings, from her heart.
Adorned with fancy stitching,
Curlicues and fleur de lis,
Turkeys, candles, flags, witches,
Eagles, fish, and Christmas trees.
For every holiday,
She’d create a new design,
And her family would say,
“Her embroidery is fine.”
Each sign of the Zodiac
Hung someplace upon her wall,
Nature’s themes, she didn’t lack -
Enchanting, her scenes of fall.
Patriotism showed through,
In many a piece she made.
Flashes of red, white and blue,
Set her feelings on parade.
Then, one day, her thread ran out,
Her final stitch was tied off.
What her life was all about?
On walls and stored in her loft.
© RickMack (Rmrickmack@aol.com)
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