It is the pair of sticks
That allows
For the gesture.

I want to share my life,
Leave something behind
That is representative.

 

Is it crazy
To save the selvages?

Not when I look at them.

Image

A seamstress often,
When laying fabric flat
Will disregard the selvage edge
In the cutting.

The selvage is
The always edge produced
In woven fabric,
As the shuttle makes its way
Down the long warp.
It is the edge created by
The weft yarns
As they somersault,
Much like a swimmer.

 

I laugh at the thought,
Like an old bible story.
The disregarded,
Too pretty to toss,
Saved.

Become the story.

“Here, see that bright, shiny, red strand?
It is the dress, I once made for you, my child.
There, see the pieces from the tops that went to the East, my first job.
Remember, our matching pajamas, for the whole family, I made them!
And your favorite, adult, silk dress, you still have it, I hope.
And mine, too, see it here?”

Loretta Warner, I Love Knitting

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