Soft wool thread slides between her left fingers,
Leaving a gentle callus on the knuckle
As the time flies by.

The cold metal hook never quite warms
In her right hand, as it weaves
In and out, knotting.

Making a blanket,
Pale colours and soft yarn slide through
Through tender fingers and hope
That this will be a child’s’ favourite.

Making a hat and scarf,
In forest green and warm wool
Hoping these won’t get lost
On the bus, or forgotten at work.

Making a throw
For the couch or a bed
Neutral colours and heavy, thick wool
For reading under or sharing.

This entry was posted in creative, love, personal, Poem, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Wool

  1. Pai says:

    Nice and calming…….

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