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Image for the poem Sorceress of String

Sorceress of String

sitting quietly, my eyes fixed
on my mother’s slender hands
a rare point of connection -
my own are miniature replicas;
I want to talk to her about this
yet I know better
than to disturb her concentration

she has always been
a bit of a practical witch,
perfecting the frustrating art
(if her softly muttered curses
are any indication)

of transformation;
turning a ball of soft string
into a delicate, lacy blanket
is nothing short of sorcery
to my budding imagination,
and I feel honored to witness
the performance of these rituals,
meditating
celebrating
the arrival of a new baby
within her precious circle

her grimoire lay open -
an old drugstore notebook
decorated only with her name
in the uniquely slanted cursive
I’d still know anywhere,
and overlapping circles
of coffee cup stains
on its tattered and curled cover -
a metallic blue-green Boye J hook
is the tiny aluminum wand
in her spell-casting fingers
as she weaves her magic
Written by LunaGreyhawk (Miss_Jenn_Leigh)
Published
Author's Note
Day 25
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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