Treasure in the Sewing Chair

In the old box chair,
a pink vase sleeps
between the little pillows,
embroidery, colorful dream.
The gifts of the law-ma, long gone,
the rose-pink vase,
the florets of her needle work,
the surprise;
the moon in the rain,
her last poetry;
the magic words
lull the purple old grains
of feelings, tend to stir the past.
Her face on the vase smiles,
and so do I.

©Byung A. Fallgren