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Personal Note:

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Poem

Head down
The old woman sews 
A dress
Nimble fingers 
Marking each stitch
The whirring of machines
Whirling and whirling
Round and round
Threading memories
Of another time
Reminding her
Of a night
Long ago
When she was afraid 
To speak to a boy 
Sitting next to her.
As her busy fingers work
She remembers more
Of that summer night
A blue cotton dress
With tiny ribbons
Lace curtains gently
Pulled by a breeze
Drifted out through opaque windows 
While musicians played a rhythm
Of their own 
And shadows pranced 
On empty walls.
Waiting that night
She wondered 
Why no one 
Asked
Her to dance.
Old memories 
Glide by
On silver sails
And today?...
She knows that today is now.
And yesterday was yesterday
Finished with her work
She catches her breathe,
Straightens her hair,
And turns off the lights. 
Pausing to look back
Into the darkened room
Shadows return her glance
With a gaping stare
Adjusting to the darkness
She begins to recognize
Familiar shapes taking form
Satisfied that all will be the same 
When she returns 
She closes the door. 
Going outside
She holds onto her purse
Waiting
For a traffic light
That has already
Changed
A smile crosses her face
As she remembers 
When the boy
Became her husband
Children were born.
And the years went by 
In a brown bag
Neatly folded in two
Is a blue chiffon dress
Almost like the one 
She wore years ago
Only this one
Is for her granddaughter 
Impatient for no reason
To go nowhere
The crowd pushes forward
But the old woman lingers
On the corner
Savoring the moment 
Glad of memories
As a busy world saunters by.

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