yarn
looking for a blank page
something's always already written
waiting for the words to come of themselves
like the wrapping round the hands
before the ball forms
loose enough
taut enough
the knees their own tension
yellow yarn green
violet and orange
the light sinks slow in the window
my mother's voice steady, sure
my hands, small hands,
ready for the sake of help
just at the edge of youth
I really enjoyed this Peter. Memories colored with caring.
Les