Quietude she wasn’t a seamstress by trade I was smaller than the gap in her thimble quieter than the tap of her needle against the pewter or the pull of the thread as she hemmed the denim I was the personification of a patience that wouldn’t have materialized if I had learned to sew and when her fingers could no longer thread the needle I never knew such solace again nor ever had a pair of jeans fit so well Cheryl Vail
13
