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My soul is a patchwork quilt

My heart is a library

There are times my closet is full 

Of new projects to sew on or build shelves for

There are times it is barren

Reliable squares pulled tight to keep me warm

I share my books

My library is exchanged and laughed about

I hold tight to some books, and share the others around

Some return dogeared or stained, some I never see again

My blanket is worn but warm

I stitch my friend’s contributions on

Sometimes there are scissors or stichrippers

Not at my hand, I’d keep them forever if you wanted

I may be seen to have been careless with my library, my blanket

But I have never regretted showing them to the world.