Dai/
Ancr a
Pla/u Cy/Ylj/l Larry Tatiana Baxter
The wool is mortled black and grey. Stitch by stitch, the plastic needle Thrusts and pulls the peppered yarn. The pastor hangs his head and speaks
Of death and His voice
triendship, our future,
God.
but yet controlled. The click ot entrance makes him pause is flat
As tardy students hurry
in,
disturbing
Him
with just a hint of quavering grief Quickly checked. And our class begins.
She
slides
her half-knitted hat
Onto her head, to check the size. Not finished yet, she slides it off
And
thrusts
and
peppered yarn.
pulls the
////
are
Beth-y\nne Vanderlaan It's
turning winter
but
m
Tennessee only the decorations change
As the bells and wreaths went up you clamped down my heart and politely said no thank you The
holly
is in
place
and each bright red bow But 1
am
I
am
tied
scattered about
like the forgotten
But
is
not in place
autumn
leaves
you would but my name and say what I long to hear then I too would be in place to welcome this holiday cheer il
whisper
28
