Tuesday, August 3, 2010

"Crocheted Dreams"

I have been writing stories and poems off and on since I was old enough to put pen to paper.  Recently I was reminded of a poem I had written for my mother several years ago. I thought I would share it.

"Crocheted Dreams"

She sits on her couch with a grandmother's poise,
Her fingers working magic, despite all the noise.
She crochets small angels, baby blankets, two or three,
But those aren't as important as what she crochets in reality.

She doesn't use yarn, she doesn't use string,
What she uses to work with is a delicate thing.
Whether it be babies on her lap or storytelling with ease,
My mother uses love to crochet memories.

Every time she kisses, hugs, or gives a smile,
She stitches another moment that will last for quite a while.
My children love their "Granny", and they love her through and through,
Without her endless love, whatever would they do?

She's crocheted a special lace that wraps around each little dear,
So when she cannot be around, her spirit is still near.
I used to think her lonely, my mother crocheting all day,
Nothing better to do, waiting for life to come her way.

I was greatly mistaken, yes I was wrong,
She knew just what to do and has been doing it all along.
For practice makes perfect, and now I see,
That it takes time to crochet dreams, for you and for me.

Written By ---- Crystal Posey 1998
(Note: I became Crystal Estell in 2002).

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