The Gift That Never Stopped Giving. Poem by WIN VENTURA

When I was only nine years old,
My brother placed a hook in my hold.
A simple gift, so small, so true...
No one knew what it would do.

With little hands and childhood dreams,
I wove my world through loops and seams.
Each tiny stitch, each careful start...
Was passion growing in my heart.

Creation became my quiet song,
Teaching patient hands to grow strong.
Love was woven through every thread,
Long before the dreams were spread.

The years passed by, as years will do,
Yet every stitch still felt brand new.
Not chasing riches, praise, or fame...
Just loving every loop the same.

Today I'm fifty-eight, and see...
That little hook still walks with me.
A childhood hobby, soft and small...
Has answered life's unexpected call.

Now every creation leaves my hand
Carrying love to distant lands.
Not simply crafted... but carefully made...
With passion that never fades.

My brother gave a little hook...
God gave the vision I never knew.
One planted the seed...
The Other gave the rain.

And here I stand today...

Living the dream
Woven with passion,
Created with love,
And blessed by His hands.

By: — WIN VENTURA