Three Twisted Stitches

I have profess'd me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness ~Othello, the Moor of Venice

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Spun

Life is a ball of yarn,
born in tangles, ready to be wound
tightly and uniformly.
Then, fully bound,
it joins the others
nestled together
in the old wicker basket by the couch.
Comfortable. Waiting. All alike.
Finally chosen and granted a purpose.
The grounding knot tied, stitches are cast on.
Twisted and wound,
three twisted stitches
looped, dropped, picked up again.
Complications and mistakes arise.
Some are let slide, hidden
from all but the creator.
Others must be repaired.
Frog a row.
Frog ten.
Start over.
The end knits near.
Bind off.
The final stitches are done.
Scissors loom.
The maker cuts the thread.
From birth to death
the ball of yarn has become a
treasured work of art.


~~~Becki Schneider

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