Heart of Rags

If, we could draw my heart, It would look like the rugs my grandma made, With leftover pieces of fabric, Stitched together. Some dotted, some stripped, Tie and dye, pastel and luminous. The torn pieces created the beautiful mat. Even if the stitches could not be hidden, And each piece had a story to tell, … Continue reading Heart of Rags


Are subjective... As we advance in life, the way we remember things changes. The thoughts, feelings and judgements we attach to memories alters because we too are altered by the magnitude of life. We shrivel and we open up, stretching our boundaries, testing our fears, realizing our follies, acknowledging our triumphs, amazing ourselves by our … Continue reading Memories