The Dreams Woven into the Fabric of a Quilt

From countless scraps, a tapestry begun, 

Each piece a whisper, 'neath the setting sun. 

Of faded dresses, and of shirts long worn, 

A lifetime's fabric, patiently reborn. 

I am the Quilt, a canvas soft and deep, 

Where countless memories, silently now sleep. 

Each patch a story, stitched with loving hand, 

A dream, an aspiration, woven through the land.

The maker's longings, in each careful seam, 

A childhood hope, a tender, waking dream. 

The quiet thoughts, beneath the needle's gleam, 

A future whispered, by a moonlit beam. 

A child's first step, a wedding's joyous day, 

The laughter echoing, in a gentle way.

The solace found, in quiet, evening hours, 

Reflected softly, in these fabric flowers. 

Each color chosen, with a knowing heart, 

To play its special, sentimental part.

And when I cover, on a chilly night, 

The dreams I hold, take iridescent flight. 

The wearer's slumber, deep and warm and true, 

Is intertwined with dreams, both old and new. 

A silent comfort, from the past's soft hum, 

A gentle journey, for the dreams to come. 

I am a guardian, of the sleeping mind, 

A woven history, softly intertwined. 

The fabric speaks, of lessons learned and kept, 

The silent wisdom, where the dreams have slept.

- Khushi Kaul