To this day my Mother’s hands are never idle. She tatted the lace for my
daughter’s wedding handkerchief and crosses that she gives to others. She never
has to look at her hands, but I have watched them and listened to the song of
the shuttle for hours on end.
Tatted Lace
Her hands
were never idle,
she could quilt, and she could sew.
She made the clothes, that we wore,
and the curtains for the window.
She could make something out of nothing,
it appeared as if from thin air,
And each thing, that she made us,
was filled with love and care.
The materials came from feed sacks,
opened and washed, then neatly pressed,
And from odd bolt ends of yard goods,
into which she made our Sunday best.
To make it all so special,
make a feed sack dress stylish and grand,
She edged it with the finest lace,
that she tatted herself, by hand.
We’d watch the balls of ecru thread unwind,
as her magic, she did weave,
The shuttle moving at a pace so quick,
our eyes it would deceive.
We watched her tat for hours,
and a certain peacefulness it did bring,
Drifting to sleep at her knee,
the clicking shuttle, a lull-a-bye would sing.
I’m grown and can afford store-bought clothes,
the very best money can buy.
But I never find anything that I like,
and I’ve begun to understand why.
The workmanship cannot compare,
to that crafted by her hands.
For I still have pieces of that lace,
and the test of time, it does withstand.
And like the love she put in it,
when she crafted it for me,
I know where-ever I am in the world,
there also, She will be.
And in the twilight, through the window,
I still see her hands and face,
The shuttle clicking to and fro...
making tatted lace.
*For more about Debra go to the Cowboy Poetry section at AlwaysCowboy.com.
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RIDING DRAG with DEBRA COPPINGER HILL is featured each week at ALWAYS COWBOY where Debra is a Resident Western Poet. Join her and her Cowboy Friends for Cowboy Poetry, Events. http://alwayscowboy.net/debra_coppinger_hill_poetry.html
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