The Quilt

My fortune has forsaken me for I am stranded in this cold wasteland
next to a flickering flame about to die. All I have are my fears, my life,
a quilt to keep me warm and my will to not die.

The thick heavy fabric enfolds me in warmth from my head to my feet.  
It is a comfort as I try to calm my restless mind and fall
to sleep.

I feel warmer yet still as I pull it closer to me in the night.
This warmth seems to come from a different place as I hold
the quilt to me tight.

Like a close friend it is a barrier against the bitter cold that wants
to suck the life from my chest with every stolen breath.  

I began to reflect in my minds wanderings
Does this quilt have a story, a past to explore?

I picture strong delicate hands, patient hands,  cutting and sewing in
endless hours to reach an end.
A quiet anticipation to see the job done with  the reward of creating
a piece of art as a gift for a friend.

Did her mind wander while she worked? Did she daydream and get lost
in a world of mystery of her own design while her fingers danced from
seam to seam with the passage of  time?

From mind to hand, to hand to cloth, did these wanderings, these dreams seep
into the fabric?

Is that why I feel as I lay on this cold hard ground like I could float up to the
dark heavens above  me and touch the stars that twinkle down.
Is this quilt that I'm wrapped in imbued with a magic that I cannot see for it seems to
be reaching  inside me and guiding me to a place where I can be free.

I dream of a woman and see her smile. Is she the one who has sewn this quilt for me?
Am I now part of her wanderings and fancies?

Is that why my heart is so light?  Is that her embrace I feel as the quilt consoles me in the night.

My mind is not restless, my body is at  peace. I lay wrapped in my quilt next to a fire long
gone out and forever asleep.