Here I am the the odd one out , sitting here lost and lonely my mouth in a pout. I am the stitch that from the needle fell, and flew off on my way down to hell.
Count the stitches one by one be careful now else you’ll count them all wrong.
Click click go the needles of strife knitting soft wool making up the pattern of life.
Knit one pearl one carry one over will this be a cardigan or a pullover? You cannot hold on to the cable when it is full of slip stitch , I am telling you now, you’ll not be able.
I am the stitch that life has dropped. Hopes and plans have all been stopped. It is futile to be angry the balloon has been popped.
I am the dropped stitch slipped from the needle fell through the hole lost my grip. Forgotten and forsaken a little lost soul.
An old poem from 2011