A Stitch in Time - Beverly Koepplin

If time was a blanket I could wrap around my life

that blanket would be many-textured and multi-colored

from all of the different threads that have been woven together –

the fine pink ones from my crocheted baby blanket,

the coarse orange ones from the serape throw on my hippie bed,

the soft grey fox hairs of the satin-lined comforter

from the time I found sophistication fit me, too,

There too would be the dull brown linen threads from my marriage bed

and the sturdy rust cotton ones from my grandmother’s quilt

followed by the plush cream embroidery yarns of my cover now

and the angel hair of the lavender fine wool spread at my feet.

If time was a blanket I could wrap around my life,

drawing the fabric from behind me and pulling it from in front of me

so it would come together before me and hold me tight,

then I could read the stories in the years that stretch out around me.

I would remember the days from my childhood, safe and kind,

and the harsh times of growing older but no wiser,

the nights of escape I spent with you though dreams tugged me elsewhere,

the years when alone and lost I grew and finally found my way,

and the hours I have spent walking this fine earth and finding this rich life,

then I would know that you were just a stitch in time, 

one little stitch in the whole cloth of my life, 

lost among all the other threads and not worth ripping out.

                                     ***