A Poem for Patchworkers
The things we hope for, the things we need,
We wish for fabric to finish that row
we sometimes wish our guests would go.
We wish all day for that time to be
that special time - that time for ME.
Each needle is threaded, the colors arrayed,
Scissors and pattern have been carefully laid.
Now we relax, this is our pleasure,
stitching this piece of soon-to-be treasure.
We always ignore that mental warning,
Stitching all night mades it rough in the morning.
But time's unimportant, we don't heed clocks,
We just need fabric and a sewing box.
Our project awaits us, now we proceed
this must be heaven - what more do we need?