I haven’t crocheted for over a year now. I was only a beginner but gave up too soon. May be I should try just one more time.
THINGS I CANNOT CROCHET
winter noons
traded for coins
selling your greens
to random passers by
cindrella shoes
from your Paris haul
worn until
they pinched
tiny wars
between us,
your nudges
pricking my
teenage years
minutes turned to miles
your quiet crossing
into afterlife while
I answered emails
planned meals
walked the dog.
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A Hundred Quills 
I love what doesn’t say in so many words and lets me snuggle between these lines. A hot choc, that’s what I want now. And I love the title .
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Now I long for my father, wanna to meet him soon. Somehow I envisioned a girl longing for her dad and her growing-up years.
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Oh, this poem made me all warm and fuzzy inside! Love the imagery and the affection attached to the lines. I think the word ‘crochet’ itself conjures warmth on its own.
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yes, crochet itself is such a beautiful word.
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