Unravelled
The drawer is opened,
revealing a disorder of delight.
Eager eyes pounce on each in turn,
as Granny shows its why and how:
stub of tailor’s chalk, bodkin needle,
wooden reel of invisible thread.
Nimble fingers rummage among
tangled threads, pluck out a thimble.
It now fits well arthritic hands
that long time past explored
another work box balanced on
another Granny’s chair.
Once I marvelled at wrinkled skin
beneath the thimble’s shine.
Now its mine that, squeezed
by a smaller smoother touch,
stays creased for an eternity
before it crawls back into line.