She is as a quilt. Soft from use Threads unraveling The squares and the pattern Reveal her history Dark at times Moments of brightness Blinding pain And the incomparable color of hope. See the pictures sewn into the patchwork squares? The one with the tears? The lonely figure walking the streets. That was when her world was lost. See the bird on the one in the middle? That is when she learned she could fly. The ship in the corner? That is when she found her soulmate. She is as a quilt. Soft from use. She covers those she loves. Warms them Protects them Comforts them Provides them with a soft place To land. She is as a quilt. Soft from use. People come and see Her imperfections They pull at her threads The tsk tsk with their clicking tongues They tell her to take better care That she is looking worn They pull at her threads And she unravels. She is as a quilt. Soft from use. Beautiful in her imperfection.