Grandma Pollock
 Mom pulled out a giant woollen knitted sweater
 "Grandma Pollock knitted this for me," she said then.
 "She knitted this for me long ago." she lent it to me against the chill.
 Grandma's picture used to be
 In the forgotten den desk drawers
 Until it was pulled out one night when we were
 Searching through old photographs.
 Now she is smiling at us on the den's glass shelf.
 Always she is wrapped in a woollen shawl.
 It matches her silvery hair
 And old faishioned eyes not easy to surprise.
 There is a picture in my memory
 Of a desk in her room with a chest box,
 And an old-fashioned broach to match, Grandma was laid asleep there.
 We sometimes notice just the smaller things to remember specialty.
 Dust on the picture in the den is stroking the cool glass
 It doesn't tarnish her smile.
 The sweater mother pulled out is large and soft, thick...
 This was the last her fingers did,
 Like her picture, it was forgotten for a while in the drawers
 Until pulled out one day on a cold afternoon.
 It kept me so warm that day.
 Such skill, so that I could feel and see her hands!
 The stiches were so heavy they dropped themselves.
 She must have wondered if we forgot her.
 She was there when we pulled out the picture, the sweater...
 Her smile warms my mind. Her sweater warmed me once in cool air.
 At rest her fine fingers are.
Copyright Kate LeBlanc 1998.
Kate says of herself:
I am 15, a Canadian living in New Zealand, and I live to write. Writing is my life! I have written stories and poetry every day of my life for 2 years now. I have wanted to be a writer since I was 8.
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