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I sew memories
In that winter sun
Basking in glory
As slowly embers burn
Huddled together
Bundled in awe
In grandma's cuddle
Dreams that I saw
By that wooden log
Orange it glowed
Warm stories flowed
As out snow poured
I sew memories
Sweet and bitter
Of moth smelling sweater
That lovely tender winter
Shared with
Such a wonderful cadence to this, Anusha ❤️ Beautifully penned.
ReplyDeleteThis takes me back to winter afternoons with my grandma, as we watched the fire and she told me magical stories. Sigh. Beautiful!
ReplyDeleteOverwhelmed
DeleteBeautiful.
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot
DeleteGreat imagery, this idea of sewing memories.
ReplyDeleteThanks
DeleteI've a quilt my mother made from pieces of her mother's dresses. Your beautiful words were reminiscent of that quilt. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThat is so precious. You are most welcome
DeleteSweet. Luv it
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday
Much love...
Thank you
DeleteWhat a beautiful memory you have written about in this poem.
ReplyDeleteOh there's nothing like a grandmother's cuddle! Thank you for giving me the memory of mine too, as I read.
ReplyDelete