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Legacy
Her loving hands moved the yarn,
The needle going back and forth,
The verigated earthtoned threads,
Not everyone would see its worth.
From skeins of yarn in tight balls,
Spreads out with the love it shows,
The afghan keeps her legs warm,
Her heart warmed by the love she knows.
Her Great Aunt whose love transcends,
From generation to generation,
Her crocheting hands remind us,
The kind of love that builds a nation.
The afghan is now slowly aging,
My mother washes it with love.
She remembers her Aunt fondly,
Now in heaven's glory above.
The afghan, beautiful and brown,
So warm and soft and cozy,
Snuggling under it's warmth,
Thoughts of Aunt Nan's heart so rosy.
It's easy to remember,
The kindness of her sweet smile,
Feeling the love while touching,
Through every year, across each mile.
Some day I hope to gain,
The afghan my mother treasures.
I knew and loved her Great Aunt, too.
Her love could never be measured.
If you took out each stitch,
And measured the time she took,
It wouldn't be enough to match,
The love she had in just one look.
The future,we don't know what holds,
But our past is knitted in care.
To remind us of her great love,
Our hearts will never be bare.
Someday I hope my mom gives me,
The love in the shape of the thread,
To warm not just my heart and soul,
But keep me warm inside my bed.
