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Saturday, June 09, 2012

Grandma



I don't know how many times I admired it
That antique piece of machinery
Black with some silver and gold
A pedal that worked by knee
I saw her sitting there for hours
Sewing a patch on my old blue jeans
Making a fuzzy brown teddy bear
Designing dresses for my sister and me
Grandma looks happy as she sewed
She was in a world of her own
I remember her beautiful face
And how her eyes gleamed with delight
After showing us her latest creation
Memories of her cloud my mind
The sound of the sewing machine
Lives on in my heart
Along with Grandma's beautiful face


9 comments:

deanna7trees said...

similar memories here. my grandma's sewing machine was a treadle in a beautiful cabinet. wish i had been wise enough to have kept it for myself.

Klaske said...

Ik ha ek sa.n masine, mar dan sûnder moter..
Ik ha it dêr as famke op leart, ik liuw dat ik it er mar wer ris op probearje mat..
mooie stofkes lize dêr!!
Noflik wykein

Nancy said...

So lucky to have such fond memories.

Magpie's Mumblings said...

Both of my grandmas had Singer treadle machines and how I wish I had one of them now.

Laura Liebenberg said...

Emmy, schrijf je zelf alle gedichtjes op je blog? Wat een talent!

woman with wings said...

How beautiful. And is that a Singer Featherweight? The cloth you're working on is lovely, too. xo

Tineke said...

Geweldig he, de Featherweight.... en hij RUIKT zo heerlijk. Geniet er maar van.

karen said...

beautiful post Emmy....

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