The Magic Quilt

Cleaning out my nightstand drawer, I stumbled across a folded scrap of paper, dated 11/14/09. Enjoy.

To my children, a gift of words
Naively  homespun in common hours
Dyed in life, stipped of pride, content to serve
With hopes that in some night of biting cold
We all in season must move through
The knitting here will return once more
To comfort and still a troubled soul
For I stood once where you stand now
Your worries are yours and yet also my own
And so our love is ours as one
Gleaned as it is from His above
For the stitching here of grammar hopes
To weave together something more
Than the sum produced of feeble parts
Does nothing less than bind our hearts