There's something so special about gifting something hand-crafted to someone. It's created with (lots of) time, love, and consideration, and is something that they can always keep which will remind them of you.
When the nights are long, the wind is wild, and the weather's awful, I'm a big fan of crocheting, and in the last year I've made a couple of blankets. You can read about the first one here (an Attic 24 Ripple), and the second one (pictured above), here (that's an Attic 24 Cosy Blanket). The first lives on the sofa, and is shared by everbody, but the second was made specifically for my boy. It was that one that I was thinking of when I wrote this sonnet for this week's Prompt (in between).
The love between
Between each stitch resides a point in time:
the programme watched, the laughter shared, the love,
the cat's keen eye on dwindling ball of twine:
swift catching claw is greeted with a shove.
Between each shift in colour goes some thought:
what would you like? What colour goes with which?
And in between my work the cat is caught
in sneaky slumber on the loosened stitch.
Between us now this gift of love has passed:
my moments fade, new memories appear.
The cat still loves the stitches of my craft,
and when you touch it you feel I am near.
Between the stitches bides my loving care.
And I can still hold you when I'm not there.
© Cara L McKee 16/5/16