My Life

My Granny dear sat knitting,
On a brightly colored ball.
With needles looped in stitches,
That added to her shawl.

Her hair was touched with silver,
So gracious was her style.
She poised herself in such a way,
That I could see her smile.

Knitting one and purling two,
The strands kept passing by.
She hummed so softly all the while,
I watched her fingers fly.

She never knew I cared at all,
Or the interest I was sharing.
But in the silence of my mind,
My thoughts were there comparing.

For my days are like her ball of yarn,
It is not devoid of strife.
And the threads upon the needles,
Make the stitches of my life.


E.P. 1908 - 1989


Hand knit lace made by Claudia Ethel Womack Pickett.