Carol Reffold - Gran's Quilt

Australian Bush Poetry, Verse & Music

Gran's Quilt

I sorted through my fabrics, I sewed with special thread
so you could have a home made quilt, to deck your marriage bed.
And as I stitched each tiny block, these thoughts went through my mind -
I prayed you'd have a happy life, secure, not unkind.
I prayed for you a real good man, and children in due course,
a happy home, nice in-laws too. (Some things you just can't force)

I cut each little scraplet out; I stitched each block with care,
because, my darling grand-daughter, I know I won't be there.
The colours of this quilt - my dear, I chose them just for you -
there's gold for your prosperity and happy skies of blue,
there's bits of your mam's bridesmaid silk, (that's that real dark green)
and there's your sister's wedding dress, (the palest orange seen).

There's yellows too, to speak of Spring, and cheer you when you're sad.
There's lime green gingham standing out (the best that Forge's had).
There's greens and golds, all blended through, to speak of this great land,
but most of all, it's stitched with love. I know you'll understand.
It took a long, long time my dear, to stitch this quilt for you.
A lot of work. You're worth it dear. I think the world of you.

- - -

One Saturday, in early June, in nineteen, ninety-eight,
I was driving along, and saw a sign, hanging on a gate.
"Garage Sale" it said in red. Well my car's got to stop.
I wandered down the gravel drive - my favourite way to shop.
The sky was blue, the sun was out, but dark clouds threatened rain,
Goods were displayed on bright blue tarps to race inside again.

On one of the tarps was this patchwork quilt, stapled with a sign
which read "$2". - What, two bucks? - That quilt was quickly mine!
I asked the girl, "Who made the quilt?" and this is what she said.
She said, "My granny made the quilt, and now my gran is dead."
I told her it was an heirloom, ‘twas precious, old and rare.
She said , "It doesn't matter much and I really don’t care!"

I took it home and washed it clean and pressed it with much care,
the old quilt seemed to speak to me - Gran’s spirit hiding there?
On one side of the quilt is a tiny stain - a sort of browny–red.
Perhaps Gran pricked her finger-tip - I wonder what she said?
That’s really immaterial, compared to what she’d say
about that paltry price tag on my quilt that Saturday.

Grandma, a long, long, time ago, over many long years
Sat and stitched my quilt with love, in laughter and in tears.
Perhaps at wars, perhaps at deaths perhaps at times of birth,
Wandering through the tracks of time, rites of passage on Earth.
I truly believe that Grandma willed that quilt from Above.
Two Dollars! How insulting! – What price do you put on love?

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