Sweater

In the dim light, the watchful eyes follow,
as the needle swims across the fabric,
in and out, up and down, in and out, up and down,

matching the slow rhythm of the frail hands,
creating a pattern as the yarn unfolds
a snapshot of the grandchild in her mind

wearing the sweater; untired, but fazed
only by the slow ticking of the clock -
the winter could not come any slower.