She sewed the cloth with needle and thread,
Adding flowers of pink and red.
Then stretched it on the wooden frame
The back and batting then came.
She sewed, I’m sure, ‘till her hands cramped,
Though I know her spirit never damped.
As her fingers pricked and bled,
She lovingly created each bedspread.
As she sewed she’d often hum,
She knew of the comfort and warmth to come.
The special memories a quilt will keep,
For beneath each quilt we rest and sleep.