The Singer

daisiesnfld: The Singer
.
Together under flour sack quilts
Made from their outgrown clothes
Tired children drifted off to sleep
Watching their Mother nightly sew
.
The foot pedal on the Singer
Ran more effortlessly at night
The children then were sleeping
No longer always kept in sight
.
The coal oil lamp cast shadows
In the dimly lit quiet room
Creating silhouettes of the weary
That had cleaned and put away the broom
.
Reflections of the pictures
That hung on the flowered walls
Reminders of the loved ones
That kept watch over them all
.
Nimble fingers guided fabric
Under the needle of the machine
While the foot kept perfect rhythm
And never skipped a single seam
.
Shoulders aching back grown weary
Longing for a moment's rest
The Mother pedaled the old Singer
While her hands made only the best
.
Children grown and long gone now
And with families of their own
The Singer made it's way to stay
In a bright and well lit home
.
The Singer now sits quiet and idle
In the hallway by the door
An antique that stands to testify
Of the childhood clothes they wore
.
DaisiesNfld

dreadlox33: ....yes....i remember these machined....heavy...I think i remember going to move one once and it flopping out and nearly throwing out my back....enjoyed reading it...