Around my mom, I always felt my guilt
My conscience seemed to always take her side
Some years ago, I gave her a new quilt
I still recall the tears of joy she cried
My gift of love to warm her nights with pride
It's hand sewn patches in a ring design
It showed up at my door after she died
Inside a plain brown box tied with used twine
And though there was no note, I read her mind
She knew the message sent would be received
A gift of love, to warm, when life's unkind
She once made quilts to give to those in need
Her gift of love with message plain to see
She knew the one in need, this time... was me.
Daniel Turner lives in Arkansas. He has been writing poetry for approximately 40 years. He loves animals and all things having to do with nature. Now retired, he has traveled over 3 million miles as a long-haul truck driver, worked in the oil fields of Texas and on the Mississippi River on a tow boat. He loves to read and watch old black and white movies.