Just for fun!

I found a needle, patterns, coloured thread,
I rose at dawn and sewed all day and night,
I crisscrossed carefully as I had read
But what a mess! It never turned out right.
I searched the cupboards, looked for balls of wool,
I wrestled day and night. I would not quit,
I plained and purled and poked and pushed and pulled,
Without a stretch, that jumper would not fit.
I found my mother’s ancient crochet hook,
I’m making holes and hoops and fancy frills,
It looked so trouble-free, in humble book,
Yet made me search for mother’s headache pills.
But no, I’d rather wield a writing quill,
Then do a craft that makes me feel quite ill.

More poems here.