She Thinks of Her

Fabric petals fall, a field of wildflowers cut and left to blow away. Picked up by loving hands, gathered together.

A daisy chain of fabric. A little quilt top, too small to be of use. Too precious to leave unfinished. In the darkness, patiently, she waits until she's needed. Sleepy flowers, nodding heavily.

When it's time, she wakes. A backing, a bed of moss. Tiny stitches, sewn by hand, footpaths through the woods. Her rough edges bound in cotton voile, soft as wildflower petals. All this time, she thinks of her.

She is on her way, a dandelion seed on the wind. A silly little quilt, light as air. She wants nothing more than to be loved by her, a quiet friend, a lovely mystery. A kindred spirit, a field of wildflowers cut and left to blow away. She is coming to gather her together. She holds out her hands...