For two women who taught me.

Sitting on your couch,
Holding sea shells far from home,
I watch you crochet,
your hands and hook dripping lace
that foams on your lap.

Your children beg you,
"Come to Florida, with us"
But hills are your home,
So you teach me old ways,
hoping memory will live.

********

In the county home,
Dark, dusty, lonely, sad
I come to visit,
for you have magic hands
that can crochet new worlds

Bright colored cheap yarn
brings sunshine indoors to you,
Making new flowers
I sit on your bed, learning,
your hands guiding mine.