I wipe my eyes and find the shears
And cut a large gold star.
I find the needle, pick the thread,
A thimble from the jar.
Small Stitches in the star's five points
And Stitches at the base.
A tiny stitch for each short year
That time will not erase.
I hate this job I have to do.
The Stitches should not show.
My years of quilting help me now.
Eyes fill, but fingers know.
My quilting, it relaxes me.
I share my work with pride.
This job was forced upon me when
A huge part of me died.
I shed a tear with ev'ry stitch
I wipe my eyes and hands,
Pick up my needle, start again,
Say "Bye" to all our plans
A stitch for when the boy was born.
A stitch just for his dad.
A stitch in time will not save nine
Or life he should have had.
First baby tooth, first day in school
Each mem'ry gets a stitch
The boy's first A, his first home run
From some kid's best slow pitch
First girl, first breakup, broken heart,
The bad times and the good.
A stitch for ev'ry drop of blood
When he was chopping wood.
We stitched him up and gave our thanks.
We cannot do that now.
I wipe my eyes and stitch again.
I'll sew this right somehow.
No stitch will ever heal my heart
Or warm me when I'm old.
My final stitch. The sewing's done.
The blue star turned to gold.