Macramé
When she would macramé,
I stayed and watched.
Taking her needles,
And attaching small knots!
Making crisp doilies...
With different patterns,
Little mats she would starch.
Amazing my curiosity,
At the speed she delivered such art!
When she would macramé,
I would ask her how it was done.
She took my hands in between hers...
Until I alone did start!
She noticed soon I got extremely bored,
And my grandmother made me stop!
'Boy...
You something else!
Why you so nosy? '
'I ain't nosy, grandma.
You got enough apples to make a pie today? '
I would ask.
And she would just shake her head.
With nothing from her to me to say...
She would hum and continue doing,
Her fast paced macramé.
Dedicated:
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar
My grandmother
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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