Silky Stitches on Canvas

As I searched through the rabble
Of someone’s life
At Estate sale
I could not help but grab
A stack of cross stitched
Flowers and birds
Amidst paradise,
Prepared to be ditched.

I looked at silky stitches
Lined up in a raw:
Imagined lady’s head
Leaned over the needles
Choosing the colors,
Dreaming up scenes
To beautify her house
Above the ravines.

And all that is left
Of her precious life —
Silky stitches on canvas
That depict paradise.
And what if I too
Will wanish someday:
No trace, no memory
Of richly felt days.

No one to mourn,
To bring sorrow flowers —
Only Estate sale
For the lucky buyers.
I think I’d be happy
If someone picked up
My silky stitches on canvas
For their own house,

For the glance of paradise
To never fade or cease.
If I knew about it,
I’d go with ease.
Not everyone is gifted with kids,
With forever love,
With achievements, deeds,
Something to bestow,

If there’s nothing to leave
For the world to marvel,
Except an empty parlor,
Let them be stitches on canvas.
Let them be charming birds
Waking at the dawn,
Chirping as if nothing happened,
Gathering sweet nectar.