Knitting and travel are two
Of my favourite things
With both I have learned,
To take what they bring
They can be great but
Despite how you’ve planned
They both can be fickle,
Your planning be damned
At all times in my purse
Is a project or two:
A dishcloth and sock
But that’s nothing new
Whenever I travel
Knitting passes the time
It helps me relax,
And focus the mind.
So thinking those thoughts,
I began to knit
Meetings were done;
It was the end of the trip
There was a bump or two
As we sailed through the skies
And my stomach felt queasy
So I just closed my eyes
And let my knitting fall
From its perch on my lap
I was sure it’d be fine
While I took a quick nap
My fallacy was discovered
Earlier today
When I wanted to knit
But what could I say?
Don’t seem to mix
And while additional warmth
May be a fix
I’m not sure I’m ready
To play with open flame
And really would they be
Exactly the same?
And so it would seem
Another lesson for the book:
When you’re trying to knit,
You need a needle, not a hook.
Great poem, and sorry about your needles ! What happened exactly ? Did someone step on them ?
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When they fell off my lap they ended up next to the heater. The acrylic got soft and bent.
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Oh no, no luck ! You’re right, best not to try the process in reverse. Maybe you could do a needle sculpture with it, or a weird pair of sticks. Hope these were not too expensive.
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