When I was Young

When I was Young

When I was young and soft tones were in all

the colours of my scarves and jumpers

my mother worked a rackety loom of whir

and whiz, shuttle and bob – of sew and pull

the knitted skeins of morning through the fall

of afternoon I often sat beside her

watching the slide and pedal to the care

she took with buttonhole and bands until

she cast it from the myriad hooks and keys

and watched it slip in silence from the din

of hours through the reek of machine oil

and naphthalene all piled in perfectly

sorted soft layers of yellow, brown and green

and put on autumns that she wove – for school.