Knit, gnarled fingers, until broken shards of sunset fade
Join day
With night
Purl two together, pull through loop.
Stitch tight evening's cool breeze silk
Amid
Roses upon rows of faith's red yarn.
Kiss light the lips of morn's moist face
Grandson duels with death's embrace.
Pray, gnarled fingers, until scattered stains of sunrise stray
Join day
With night
Purl two together, pull through loop.
Stitch tight soul's fabric freshest scent
Amid
Roses upon rows of faith's red yarn.
Kiss light the lips of morn's moist face
Grandson reaches for beckoned grace.
Knit, clasped fingers, until hostile storms of panzer's calm
Pray day
And night
Purl two together, pull through loop.
Stitch tight far stars you cannot see
Amid
Roses upon rows of faith's red yarn.
Kiss light the lips of morn's moist face
Grandson's warm
In your gnarled embrace.
6 comments:
The photo is a fantastic study. Liked your poem also.
A great photograph - and the words somehow just seem to add colour to it. Thanks so much for joining in with Sepia Saturday.
What a wonderful picture. I wonder how old she really was. My own sprightly 90 year old mother is still knitting (with gnarled fingers too). The lady in the picture looks as though she understood how therapeutic it was.
That reminds me of my grandmother who did a lot of knitting and crocheting.
Beautiful!
Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever seen an old portrait like this with someone knitting.
What a treasure - both your grandmother and her picture!
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