A Knitter’s Christmas

I found this cute little poem here and wanted to share it with you.

 

A Knitter’s Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and, oh, I was weary,
My knitting unfinished, my eyes getting bleary
The stockings weren’t finished, the chimney was bare.
And I knew that morning soon would be there.

My children and husband were tucked in their beds,
But visions of stitches ran through my head.
I’d knitted ornaments and presents and gifts by the ton,
And now, I was finally, almost, almost done.

As I poised my needles for one more stitch,
I heard something outside that made my hand twitch.
I jumped up from my knitting, and flew to the door,
Pressed my eye to the peephole, tiptoe off the floor.

My knitting forgotten, I peered into the night.
When suddenly, I got a terrible fright.
On my porch appeared Santa, holding his sack.
He knocked softly, and I took a giant step back.

I unlocked the deadbolt, and let Santa in,
He entered and gave a mischievous grin.
“Hope you don’t mind if I come in the door?”
“Coming down the chimney can be quite a chore.”

He said “You’re up late. Still working I see.”
“Do you know how tired you’re going to be?”
“I know, Santa,” I said, with a sigh,
“But I’m still duplicate stitching the stars in the sky,”

“And the fields on that stocking look blobby you know,
I need to duplicate stitch the drifts in the snow.
I’ve been knitting and knitting and knitting, no rest.
I just tried to finish knitting too much, I guess.”

“I know what you mean,” he said with a smile.
“This is my busiest time of the year, by a mile.”
He stooped down by the tree, and he opened his sack,
And began to pull presents out of his pack.

“I’ve got some things here I think you might like,
A complete set of Addis, and a brand new Ott-Light.
A bundle of yarn, and a great big cutter,”
I smiled and felt my heart go a-flutter.

He put down gifts for us all, then he waved his right hand.
“Go to bed,” he said, glancing at my floor stand.
He gave me a wink, and stepped out the door.
I just stood there a moment, glued to the floor.

After he’d left, I turned back to my chair,
Picked up the stockings, and started to stare.
The duplicate stitching was done!  The stars lit the sky!
And on my son’s stocking angels sung on high.

I ran to thank Santa for this final gift,
And watched as his sleigh started to lift.
I heard him exclaim as he pulled out of sight
“Merry knitting to all, and to all a good night!”