Crocheted Warmth Poem by Lindsey Wolf
Crocheted Warmth
The smell of her favorite perfume
swallowed up by yarn fibers
ghosts of the same smell loom
picking flowers that still haven't bloomed.
I remember those little fingers in action
kneading yarn, colors of white and blue.
Holding the woven piece, my heart contraction.
Her and her crochet hook were quite the two.
She was my all, the fight in my being
and at night that crocheted blanket is my shelter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 12:42:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
