A Stitch In Time Poem by Phil Soar

I turned the page and read aloud
My wife told me to stop it
She was sewing a balloon onto a coat
And I thought she was going to pop it
The stitching was a work of art
'Happy Birthday Love' it read
I tried to keep my mouth shut
But she stictched it up instead!

I hummed some words of anger
She giggled to herself
She stood the Balloon on a nearby ledge
Next to a porcelain elf
Her smile could light the darkened sky
She was soon an emotional wreck
And she took a page from the book I had
And stitched it to my neck

By now I looked a nutcase
Who escaped the local asylum
She had knitted some slippers
Made from uncooked kippers
And drank from a bottle of rum

Drunk as a skunk at evening time
Armed with a needle and thread
She was stitching me up a treat (I thought)
And maybe I'd end up dead
She stopped short of mass intraction
As I struggled to move my mass
She'd sewn my legs to the armchair
And a knitted a coat for my ass!

What a weird and wonderful evening
I spent with the my lovely wife
She can't help her art with a needle
And she's equally good with a knife
Her carers came to collect her
She had to go back to the home
They took her away in a woollen van
I was stitched up and left alone.