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Fate sold Liddy a bolt of trouble cloth --
A rude and simple brown calico of
Coffee, chocolate, butterscotch --
To piece together the quilt of her life
While other girls had velvets and rich brocades
And countless bolts to choose from.
When Love finally found Liddy's house
He donated a bolt of plain brown cloth.
Grateful for contrast, Liddy cut each piece
Carefully, frugally making the most of her cloth,
Using her mother's ancient templates
Passed down for countless generations.
Like the women before her,
Liddy stacked her perfect squares –
Alternating calico then plain
Just like mother taught her,
Protecting the work she'd done by
Pulling through a thread to hold it all together.
Liddy pieced and sewed her quilt,
Mindful of seams that had to withstand
Harsh launderin', long rough winterin',
Painful birthin', joyful lovin', and sorrowful dyin'.
She sewed her seams strong, straight and true
Each corner a perfect checkerboard of light and dark
The quilting was all there was left
For Liddy to finish the medley of her life.
Granny said the quilt won't last
If the quiltin' ain't done right.
Liddy made sure each tiny stitch was straight,
The thread not twisted – the knots tight.
She made each careful pass with her needle
Deliberately, like a surgeon piecing an artery.
Her quilt's life depended on what she did now.
Liddy wanted it passed along for years to come
Intact -- not in shreds and tatters.
Like her, it wasn't fancy but it was solidly made.