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Creation

Creation women of age sit in the sun and dream. they knit up our world on five flashing needles click, click, click a woman of age sits across the aisle, she dreams in the sun as it slants through the pane. her pale hands move regardless of her thoughts. yarn slides between her fingers occasionally catching on weathered skin click, click, click softly serenades the hour away. my glance sidles up to her tries to fathom the history behind those dreaming eyes yarn thoughts weave our world. five silver needles fly I wonder if the bus will stop when the clicking ceases.

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Panagiota Romios

Date: 2/6/2019 2:05:00 PM

Great poem. You have made us be with you on the bus,, with you. Thank you~ Panagiota

Line Gauthier

Date: 9/29/2017 12:33:00 PM

Beautifully and lovingly crafted. Based on this I want to read everyone of your poems. Thank you for sharing. Line from Ottawa xx

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/29/2017 1:01:00 PM

You are most welcome I hope you enjoy my poetry. I am missing these ladies who knit up our world. Somehow a feeling of gentleness has gone with them.

Maureen Mcgreavy

Date: 9/28/2017 9:00:00 AM

Awesome :) I love the image, a slowing of time embrace.

Old Man Emu

Date: 9/28/2017 12:32:00 AM

I used to love watching my grandma knit, It was captivating as a child. She did teach me I wonder if I could do it now? Nice read. I love the line, "softly serenades the hour away". Kind regards, Craig

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/28/2017 9:36:00 AM

You never forget the memory is in your finger bones.

Patricia Cresswell
Date: 9/28/2017 1:00:00 AM

It was a very surreal experience. I was on a bus going north east out of Toronto to home. She was sitting just across and down one row of seats. My mind took one of those poetic twists and I found myself wondering if the world would stop if she stopped knitting. The click click was steady all the way to Barrie where I changed buses.