The Fabric of Two Lives
Sewing machine, long idle, gathered dust
Its turn-of-the-century frame clad in rust
Sitting in the old attic’s dim lighting
It revived memories uninviting
Her dauntless spirit still seemed to be there
Helen, hard at work in her wicker chair
The bobbin spun as she pressed the treadle
To mend her husband’s Civil War medal
The war years seemed like only yesterday
When the North fought in blue, the South in gray
Ben had battled Rebel troops at Bull Run
Led by McDowell in hot July sun
Hope was extinguished in a young girl’s heart
The first time she and Ben had been apart
He was one of thousands with no grave mark
The candle sputtered, spent, and all was dark
*April 28, 2018
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