In another world
She woke up befogged
What was her identity? Where did she belong?
She couldn't write a mail
But her hands could create magic
Where was her craft? Was it still within her?
The joy to knit, the joy to crochet
The thrill of new yarn
Cick-clack of needles
The sweater so warm
Oh dear,
Where will this craft take you?
It is as unnoticeable
As the early morning dew
She drops the needle
Closes the yarn
Turns inwards
Begins to unlearn
When she was held back
She had forgotten almost
What is once learnt with love
Can never be lost
Then came the moment
She dusted the surface
Picked out her favourite colour
From the corner of her suitcase
She picked her needle
As if it were yesterday
She let it work its magic
On a warm winter day
A dazed face
A look of surprise on another
She wondered what was wrong
Or was it just the weather
No, it was your finesse
That soothed their eyes
Her art worth a thousand Pence
A heart suddenly smiles
She found herself within herself
Engaged with her craft
Slowly rediscovering
The joy to knit, the joy to crochet