she would knit
for hours.
sitting alone, her hands
a blur
of needles and yarn,
rocking in her
chair
by the fireplace.
in time
there was something
long
and wide,
warm. she'd fold
it together,
set it aside,
then start another,
something
of a different color
for someone
else.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment