Red, orange, yellow, purple, blue and green;
The colors flow smoothly from her fingers
A rainbow of yarn like I’ve never seen
So absorbed in her I stop and linger
With every twist of her agile wrist
I watch intently as the afghan grows
Without looking, she creates every stitch
Then carefully crochets them into rows
The weight of it on her is comforting
Its warmth blocks out the chilly winter air
Still I can’t keep myself from wondering
Will it soon be too much for her to bear?
Nothing is impossible (at least that does not violate the laws of physics). When you can..violate the laws of physics!
The official bulletin of the artist IMPREINT created to repost excerpts from 'En plein air'.
They said I could create a place to write and so I did
Keep it simple!
Green stains run deep.
Blog about beauty of live, places in Europe, history, nature and landscape.
Drowning in the busyness of life, and how I stay afloat, and find peace and stillness amidst the chaos.
Gather 'round and hear a tale...
SYDNEY PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPHER
French magazine - art & visual culture
Reviews
Inspired to inspire
Helping Home Owners Understand Their Options (Advice And Guides)
Gânduri către suflet
Mostly fiction mixed with a little poetry and a smidgen of real life drama
Somewhere in the cosmos
travels, books, cosmetics, promo, life
Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
LikeLike
You’ve written a lovely poem, Jerry, with a devastating last line.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you. If she could not crochet, it would be devastating.
LikeLike
The latent deep meaning is beautiful
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much for the kind words.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This brings back memories of sitting watching my Nan knitting as a child Jerry. It was like watching a magician pulling rabbits from a hat. Kept you transfixed for hours.
LikeLiked by 1 person
So true. My mother used to make rugs and my wife prefers baby blankets. She gives them to the hospital and donates them for charity auctions. It would be a terrible thing if she could no longer do it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A sensitive observance of a life-time acquired skill. Perhaps a dying art sympathetically presented in your verse, Jerry.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Roland. My 15 year old granddaughter has requested that wife teach her the art. Perhaps it will carry on for one more generation after all.
LikeLike
I like the flow and the story in this. The last line stopped me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, your kind words are appreciated.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful and poignant.
As we age we can’t always continue those sports or hobbies that once occupied our heart, body, and mind. So, thank God for memories! 🙂
(((HUGS)))
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, my mother struggled with arthritis and she still crocheted. To see my wife sitting in a chair without yarn in her hand is unnatural. Now my oldest granddaughter wants to learn the art.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so glad your oldest granddaughter wants to learn! I have a daughter and a DIL who love to knit and crochet. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, it’s beautiful to watch, and comforting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true. My wife creates beautiful baby blankets that she donates to the hospitals.
LikeLiked by 1 person
She does very well!
I tried to learn how to knit, but alas…
LikeLiked by 1 person