| CROSS STICH HORRORS A poem by K. D. Abbott Today I joined a cross stitch class And though it may sound dumb Where once my fingers used to be I now possessed a thumb I couldn't thread the needle And this creates a 'hitch' For without a threaded needle You can't create a stitch The instructor had to thread it And though it sounds kind hearted She muttered lots of muffled words And hastily departed She showed us how to make a stitch And where we should begin But the first stitch ended painfully Beneath my tender skin Well, I've never been heroic And I believe one lady said The screams that issued from me Would surely wake the dead The class was in an uproar As they crammed to take a peek For my face was now a deathly white And my legs were feeling weak My finger was in tatters I tried hard not to cry But the gash looked like a canyon There was a good chance that I'd die The teacher yelled impatiently What she said I'll never know For I fainted in an instant When the blood began to flow The teacher phoned the ambulance For the wound was very deep But she said the blood-drenched patterns Could now be mine to keep As they placed me in the ambulance She let out such a shriek When I tried to reassure her That I'd be back next week 
This poem is protected and Copyrighted to K. D Abbott 2007. © All rights reserved. |
To read more poems please click on the ~ Just Verse ~ banner below.
