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Darning I pull open the sock drawer of my days the 'good old days' where there's never a waste. I view my footies and anklets of the 50's worn with flatties and black patent Mary Jane's. Bobbie socks worn with brown and white saddles, penny loafers, and suede shoes, from yesterday. Thigh-high socks from the most present whenever. Lightly cool, warmer and hotter ever socks. Aged tattered worn ones, and others almost new. Relentlessly pressured socks, grown old and holey. With needle and thread, using my darning egg, I repair them, weaving through the warp, under and over to make them usable again. To right what's wrong as quickly, conscientiously and frugally as possible. Habitually I do, with all things that have worn broken: broken-promises, broken-hearts, broken-bones, and broken-spirits. I've been broken, my family broken and my friends broken. With my darning tools I attempt to make useable, to fix it all! I see no need for disposal. All holes worn can be repaired. Today not by me, but I know a weaver, who's a far better darner than I! |
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas H. Smihula On Date: 2006-02-07 08:19:29
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.60526
Interesting concept and it helps introduce the thought so well. This was a very enjoyable read for me and glad it was one of the last ones for me to read. I like the flow and presentation and especially the thought and how your presented to this reader. Well done.