A cat and a ball of yarn
Three women knit pretentiously
In a rain-lit corner
Beautiful they weave stories
Within the rugs of old
Then there is I
In the other corner
Attempting to piece together
Bits of my own sanity
Only to find the thread wants nothing to do
With the needle
I cry
Oh I cry
But it changes naught
The thread is free from the needle
And I am the pin cushion.