Looking at those old hands full of wrinkles
Busy going back and forth,
Eyes looking carefully at the movements made by the hands.
Skin looked so pale yet very strong.
The mind visualizing the finished product,
Delightfulness filled her eyes,
combining beautiful colours like her kniteed cardigan.
Slowly examining her choice of pattern,
Realised something appealing will be created.
Created by her hands
Telling a story without no words,
Giving you a sense of comfort
during those long hours she hasnt been there.
Despite the lack of character considered during this fashionable era,
My grandmama’s knitted scarf wil always keep me warm during cold times.
Feeling so honoured to wear such a great piece of art
A pure talent, slowly woven with love
Patiently knitted for its uniqueness.
Its warmth taking away my loneliness,
A skill passed on by the previous generation,
resembling a taste of vintage
Honouring the heart that gave me these beautiful gift,
Holding an undying scent of her fragrance.
I thank you Grandmama…..
Finding myself 