Quilt

As I stare at my life, I touch the woven quilt that has now become pictures of the past. Woven in patches, my past pain, my present pain, long ago fallen tears, and tears that refuse to stop falling. The silky border, a reminder that all will stay with me and there is no escape. The thread that holds it all together, a promise that I will walk on my bumpy road and smooth out the paths of souls I cross. The inside cotton, a soft place inside me that is hidden but only appreciated through the tears and rips between my patches of pain. -Mysty Rayn