She made me mittens
Icy, icy fingers
Freezing, freezing cold
Looking for my mittens
The ones the lady sold
She knitted them from cashmere
She knitted them with grace
Relaxed and clacked her needles
Never was there any race
Lemon, beige and fluffy
I wear these gloves with love
For the maker of my mittens
Has since wooshed up, to lands above
Copyright © Angela Tune | Year Posted 2021
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