The Sweater

Her hands fidgit and strain to make their impression on the sweater of confusion.

She gently fingers the holes, in which more likely, were given to someone else in mind.

The buttons large and unmatched to her ability.

She concentrates.

Her hunched over body so frail and unaware, yet so sure of her endevours. So sure she can accomplish this simple task.

Her hair neat and in place as if arranged there by angels delicate hands.

Did she accomplish"this"on her own?

A pause to look up from her task to see the bustle of the room, and without a care she darts her head back down to resume her difficult knitted wonder.

This process is repeated over and over again.

Like the patience of a thousand seeds in the earth waiting to grow.

She struggles alone

With one gesture of kindness from a nearby stranger, "shall I help you with that?"

Her reply, " No, it gives me something to do"

So simple is the moment, so complex is the meaning. So intricate the parts that some may find frustrating and resort to anger. She is all there ever should be in a person who has lived a long long life. She holds strength, patience, determination, and the meaning of hard work. When theres nothing to do, she seeks something to keep her mind occupied. She wants to do it on her own. Independantly strong.

What A Beautiful Sweater