Lace is just air
Surrounded by thread
Without us lacemakers
The skill would be dead.

Lace can be bobbins
Flung about with great speed
Weaving patterns of beauty
Like magic, indeed.

Or needle and cotton
Drawn with such care
Making dainty delights
For lace lovers to wear

But lace can be shuttles
Making knots by the score
And carried in pockets
For when time is a bore.

There’s crochet and knitting
And hairpins and looms
All needing equipment
To fill up our rooms.

But whatever the method
The skill’s quite unique
We’re proud to be makers
And we’re never meek!

By Noelene at The Angle, NSW, Australia