Heirloom quilts, wedding veils, and Grandma’s tablecloths
are but future feeding grounds for silverfish and moths.
Since we cannot control the changes that the future brings,
we should not be flummoxed by the loss of treasured things.
Their value is more visceral than literal, it’s true,
so time can rarely mitigate their presence within you.
North and south and east and west—wherever we are cast—
within our minds and hearts, we bear the treasures of our past.
I cannot help mourning the loss of this quilt handmade by my grandmother over 100 years ago which seems to have vanished from the assisted living facility where my sister lived for the last ten years of her life, so I guess this poem was mainly written to comfort myself.