Mended knees and patchy sweaters The art of a hand that has nothing to waste Sewing together ripped fabric and lives Weaving together all of those threads That really want to fray holding them With hands calloused by work still soft In the form of a mother’s touch that goes Overlooked for friends and other things Trapping of youth pulling attention away Not noticing the love that’s tied them together Like all great art her works won’t be appreciated Until she’s gone and the children find their value While their own hands continue to cook and sew Passing on memories of her through habits Stitched tight into the people they’ve become
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Musing & Creating with T.J.S. Sherman 