A Symphony of Stitches
In the tapestry of time, a tale unfolds,
A childhood's haven, a treasure to behold.
Like a gentle lullaby, that old machine's refrain,
Whispers stories of yesteryears, again and again.
In kindergarten's embrace, I'd sit, watch, and play,
As Grandma, in her glasses, painted dreams every day.
Her sewing machine, a storyteller's quill,
Spinning tales with every stitch, it's magic still.
The foot treadle danced like steps in a waltz,
Weaving memories, like hidden vaults.
A melody so timeless, like a favorite song,
In its soothing embrace, I'd dream along.
A childhood's haven, a treasure to behold.
Like a gentle lullaby, that old machine's refrain,
Whispers stories of yesteryears, again and again.
In kindergarten's embrace, I'd sit, watch, and play,
As Grandma, in her glasses, painted dreams every day.
Her sewing machine, a storyteller's quill,
Spinning tales with every stitch, it's magic still.
The foot treadle danced like steps in a waltz,
Weaving memories, like hidden vaults.
A melody so timeless, like a favorite song,
In its soothing embrace, I'd dream along.
Yet as I grew, life's hustle took its place,
No more naps, no more Grandma's grace.
Yet with threads so fine, memories mend,
In every stitch, our time I'll spend.
Like fading echoes in the morning's first light,
The sewing machine's hum, still in my sight,
A cozy harbor, where memories reside,
In this space, they'll forever bide.
No more naps, no more Grandma's grace.
Yet with threads so fine, memories mend,
In every stitch, our time I'll spend.
Like fading echoes in the morning's first light,
The sewing machine's hum, still in my sight,
A cozy harbor, where memories reside,
In this space, they'll forever bide.
2021 / Mixed Media / Beijing, China