The Unfinished Dress
by Su Laws Baccino
Great Grandma wore a doily on
I was never quite sure
if it was meant to be there.
Was it that
crocheted piece from the back of her chair
or was it, perhaps, one of those caps
used to wear.
A strange old bird,
short and square,
no real shape,
her clothes black, brown, or grey.
Summer, winter she wore long-sleeved
Voluminous ankle-length skirts
that caught frequently on concertinaed
lisle stockings stuffed tight into wooden
in which she walked with a clomp,
lifting her feet high with every step
as if frightened of missing the ground.
Wrapped around her ample
frame, hip to hip,
an apron with a pocket, out of which peeped
a crochet hook and a ball of bright red cotton.
She said she was making me a
Great Grandma laughed a lot,
I sometimes thought her house would fall down.
©2007 Su Laws Baccino
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