The Stitcher

A large part of this is exactly the same as the other stitching poem...but it is different.

Stitcher
(with thanks to Raelinda Woad)

“You are the stitcher”, my husband
says to me. I like that title, stitcher.
I stitch. I create,
from someone else’s inspiration.

Brightly colored strands delight
a simple up-down,
up-down makes
a neat and tidy x

spashing a dollop of life on canvas;
forrest green, blood red, sun yellow
lilac purple, orange, deep sea blue

Hours spent stitching
to craft a vivid scene
Bears flying in air-balloons,
a brown-haired girl
breathing pink cosmos.

A canvas capturing
bridal white and baby blue.
All day long
I paint other peoples’
Pictures while my own canvas
remains
blank.

Slowly, with care
I x, and x, to create
a memory full
of love while longing
to stitch
my own dreams.