Patricia Cresswell Poet Free verse

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 February 6, 2019 at 2:05 PM Great poem. You have made us be with you on the bus,, with you. Thank you~ Panagiota

Line Gauthier September 29, 2017 at 12:33 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 September 29, 2017 at 1:01 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 Pigeon Tart September 28, 2017 at 9:00 AM Awesome :) I love the image, a slowing of time embrace.

Old Man Emu September 28, 2017 at 12:32 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 September 28, 2017 at 9:36 AM You never forget the memory is in your finger bones. Patricia Cresswell September 28, 2017 at 1:00 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.