Wooden Spools Poem by JoAnn McGrath

Here I am again in this sewing room.
So much to look at even some heirlooms.
But what catches my eye,
is the rows of spools I spy.

Colors of the rainbow, all the hues.
Indigo, yellow, red, purples, blues.
Every shade and variation it seems.
Never saw so many colors that lay in between.

Remembering back when I was a child.
The spools were wooden, we'd roll them on tile.
Or make a little sports car with spool wheels.
The tires never really did squeal.

Or we would borrow some real pipe cleaners from dad.
Not the fuzzy craft ones now they have.
We'd make are little spool and pipe cleaner people.
Bendable arms and legs, playing this is a church, this is a steeple.

Or we'd build a tower with different size spools
To build it tall you had to be very careful.
Even a miniature game of bowling..
maybe that was more like log rolling.

But now you buy these plastic lightweight spools
They don't even seem that cool.
I guess we're saving more trees this way.
But I sure miss the wooden ones I had in my day.