Within my bags of quilting stuff
Are lots of little scraps,
The remnants of some projects
Which I saved, thinking perhaps…

I would use them in the future
Like they once did long ago
When they gathered snips of fabric
And a patchwork quilt they’d sew.

It was done then from necessity
So nothing went to waste
And I’m sure that many beds
With scrap-made blankets have been graced.

But realistically I realized,
Without patience or privation,
I should ditch these scraps for my idea
Was just a fabrication.