images from google dot com
a bright moon
through the eye of a needle
this silence
eye of a needle
a double strand enters
knots dwell in her mind
she can cross stitch a village
with or without setting suns
She lived in the eye of a needle
Folks called her Ole Mrs Tweedle
There in her space
all day long she'd tat and lace
and ne'er did she tire that weedle
--gillena cox
Revisit
Wizard of Oz
day moon
the old house
