Watch her, as she
Sits and knits.
As pair of needles
Criss cross,
I see her thoughts
Setting her wrinkles
To play.
The moment she completes
The picking of stitches,
Her wrinkles
Erase out.
I call it
The juxtaposition of
Mind and sentiment.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem