Home » Poems » Ilene Bauer » Rows of Stitches

Rows of Stitches

I watch the magic happening As yarn becomes a shawl; The knitting needles of my aunt Are at her beck and call. Her fingers wind the wool around Without her even thinking And rows and rows of stitches show Without her even blinking. Her expertise is such that I just really can't compare it, But best of all is when she's done, Then I will get to wear it!

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Robert Johnson

Date: 9/19/2017 9:52:00 PM

This kinda makes me jealous, what a wonderful therapy this would be. They truly do seem to do it as a second nature. The same way you write poetry. :)

Ilene Bauer
Date: 9/20/2017 12:14:00 PM

I love that comment, Robert! Thank you for saying that...

Arthur Vaso

Date: 9/15/2017 10:55:00 PM

Lovely, I have an Afgan my mother made when I was a child, still have it!

Maurice Rigoler

Date: 9/15/2017 6:41:00 PM

Hahaha! So it's worth the wait! All my mother's sisters were taught to knit, quilt, and crotchet. I remember as a boy how they'd gather one evening a week to work on a large quilt, or separately make lace-fringed doilies, or pot holders and aprons. No scraps of cloth were thrown away. Your poem brought back memories. Thanks. / M