Under the bed, her sewing box.
Near the bottom, a shirt,
Pressed and folded with a patch pinned
Covering an elbow busted out from within.
...
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This one struck a chord with me because it is exactly what my mother used to say. I would thread the needles just as you described and then hook them into the curtain to be used later. Those 'laters' never came. A memorable poem for me, Sidi. Thank you. Love, Fran xx
O yes, Sidi, sounds so much like my prcious mom. Great memory and thanks for pointing me here. Blessings, Loyd