The Stitching's Torn

The stitching's torn, the wool is worn
the list it grows, her years are sewn on
her document of time

and rests atop the faded gray
the patches lay, preserved by memories past
so old yet so alive

she's told me 'bout her summer stories
and I sit waiting for my time to come
to make some of my own

Chorus:
As I sew in each thread
I revive what camp meant to her
her end is my new start (end is my new start)
with this blanket I feel
the warmth and comfort Tap gave her
and I know I'll find my way with it here

the yellows, greens, the reds and blues
colors change as summers do
patches keep their hue so bright,
her memories still shine through

and she placed them down with care
the years formed a small pattern there
and in the empty space she left
is where my patch will rest

(Chorus)
and I know I'll find my waaay

she once held the blanket bare
no patches yet of her life there
and year by year it wrapped her more
in Tapawingo's love

as I go on my own way
I'll carry what she's told me
and all she's ever shown me

(first part of Chorus)

Round:
with this blanket I feel
the warmth and comfort Tap gave her
and I know I'll find my way with it here
(and I know I'll find my way with it here)