Bobbins by Noelene I'm never alone when I sit at my lace Every bobbin I own is a friend And brings back to my mind some special time When over my pillow I bend.
There's a pair sent from Scotland , hand painted in blue >From my contacts with faraway places And some from the States, received for a swap With hedgehogs, and fans just for lacers. There are some made of metal, and some made of bone But most are just made of plain wood The most precious of all are those turned by DH Going back to the days when he could There's marbled acrylics, and ones I've hand painted And plastics made bright with nail varnish There are Mother and Babes, and some spirally wound I just hope the wire doesn't tarnish. There are some from estates from those who've passed on And gone to that place in the sky Where threads never break, and pins never bend And with pillows in ample supply. As each bobbin goes by, with its burden of thread Does its work, rounds a pin, and is gone I'm reminded again of precious times past And friendships and memories live on. Noelene in Cooma [EMAIL PROTECTED] > > What a good idea Debbie, I certainly love to work with the old bobbins > that I bought from him because my mind always wanders while I make lace > and I wonder who owned these old bobbins and where they lived etc. how I > wish they could talk. > Happy lacing > Sue M Harvey - To unsubscribe send email to [EMAIL PROTECTED] containing the line: unsubscribe lace [EMAIL PROTECTED] For help, write to [EMAIL PROTECTED]
