Velvet hands

One winter morning

The raspy fire sizzled in the chimney

Auburn leaves whirled in eddies of wind

The library where she would sit

A novel on her lap, velvet hands stroking its cover

She smiled, fiddled with my hair

Read me a story, eyes glimmering

An ecstacy of blond curls

As I ran, giggling

She put her book away, started knitting

Click, click came the needles

Wool tangled in a frenzy

Cerulean blue that matched my eyes, she said

“I’ll knit you a scarf, dolly”

Spectacles rested on her wrinkled nose

As she hummed the tune of a lullaby

The needle dove into the wool

Her icy hands spun all day

Finally, she held the scarf

Victoriously, tied it around the neck

Of the little girl, cheeks blazing

It was evening, now

Silver streamed in, the stars blinked

I entered the room, many years later

I held the scarf, still a delicious blue

The chair was empty, the needles lost

She had tiptoed away into darkness

The fire

In one last sigh,

Vanished into nothingness.