The Backyard Poet
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?
Author of nostalgia, 1970s, friendship, girlfriends, family
- Poetry -
Every Heart Has A Story.
Author/Blogger/Pastor
⅓ of a Songwriter, ⅓ of a Writer & ⅓ of a Photographer
FAB: Faith And Books
art. popular since 10,000 BC
through the darkness there is light
A dreamers guide to sanity
Vague Meanderings of the Broke and Obscure
All about the second choice.
Arts & Lit Collective
Mostly light hearted but often with a serious message.
Poetry, Fiction, Essays & Art by M.P. Powers
2016 published a book of poetry and short stories available @http://chrisblack2012.com
Always Searching Behind Closed Doors for the What ifs, the Whys and the What Fors
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