// Sweater //

Balls of yarn of assorted hues,
laid in her basket of riddles,
She'd pick one each day,
trying to lighten the load,
knitting her feelings with
the thread of words,
Stockpiling into the diary solid,
Bit by bit she tucked them all.

She knit in passion with
her magic wands,
Letting the happiness
make some hay.
And when the sky fell grey,
blizzard came through,
She pulled out her
sweater of poems,
knitted all through,
She wore it with pride,
and walked down the storm,
Knowing all along, this is what
would keep her warm.

- Helen louna