Between her fingers she holds the thread
Upon her lap the weave is spread,
A coverlet to keep one warm
To bring forth comfort
And bless the adorned.

As she crochets it’s her heart that prays
For whom ever this work upon will lay.
And as a pattern takes shape and form
A work of art is quietly born.

A labor of love it can be said.
This thing of beauty made of thread.
For as a master of her skill
In equal stitches love is filled.

The finished piece is tucked and tied
Then is washed and carefully dried.
Gently folded with loving hands
Softly stroking the blended strands

For once there was just a mass of thread
Needing purpose; to be of use instead.
Into a weave of style and design
So much like life to me it reminds.

Color and texture shape our lives
A pattern forms over the course of time.
Unable to view the picture we seek
Until the finished weave is complete.

© Linda S. Burger

Midi Playing: "Angel Eyes - Madison's Lullaby" © Bruce DeBoer
an Original Composition