By TheVampire
Date: 16 September 1999

The Quilt

Sitting there, in my chair holding the quilt she made, patched so
full of colors, my mind is eased by her pressences even when she
is not there. My hands fall limp against my knees, head lays back
and my eyes close. The quite of the room allows my mind to think.
"She is such a friend to my mind. She is my quilt. Taking all the 
pieces that I am, she gathers them together and places them in all 
the right order. With loving care sewn together and stiched up 
tight. And in the end our life, my quilt, is as beautiful as she is."