"The Old Sewing Machine" 
I remember Grandma when I
Was just a teen
Always up late sewing on her
New machine
She would be pumping her feet
On the treadle humming along
"Row, row your boat gently
Down the stream, a silly song
That machine seem to work
Magic in all it could do
How, and what made it work, I
Really had no clue
Was it in the way her glasses
Sat on the edge of her nose?
Or the knob on the machine?..
Maybe in her feet I suppose
I drew pictures of the clothes I
Often would dream
And my grandma brought it to
Life, seam by seam
When I went to bed and woke
Up in the morning light
Grandma had worked her magic
All through the night
Over the years as I seem
Always to grow
Teddy bears, dresses, she
Would faithfully sew
Sometimes she would let me
Watch, if I didn't get in her way
She would smile and look at
Me and often would say
All the magic she spun would
One day it would be all mine
I would turn that knob, push the
Peddle and make my own design
Will I know her secret in the magic
She seemed to hold so near,
Did she take it with her or....
Is it still here?
True to her word she left the
Machine to me
My greatest design would be
From her..I felt she would see
All the clothes that she had
Made that I adorn
Were now old and tattered
Some even torn
I could not throw them away
You see
'Cause my Grandma made
Them with love for me
Now time for my magic and
My special design
I cut up thoses dresses and
Make something of mine
My daughter was quizative
Watching me
Told her there was magic
In time she would see
For when I cut the dresses,
I really felt no guilt
To pass on to my daughter
I was making her a Quilt
Funny how the past and the
Present, together did slide
The machine now sits in my
Attic..had the magic died?
My daughter had married
And grown
Now with four children of
Her own
She wants now to pass
Down her quilt
But who to? And not feel
Any guilt
She ask if possible did the
Machine still hold some magic
I thought it just may be gone
Oh how tragic
But I felt it was time for me
To pass it to her
Like my grandma's grandma
I also gave my word
But how could she with only
One quilt and no more
Past it on to each of her
Children when she had four
She cut, and sniped, her foot
To the floor
Design something of her own
To give to her four
I sat and watch the magic
As it came alive
I smile so big, and oh how I
Did cry
The dresses and quilt still
Were there
For they now were made
For each a teddy bear
Written by:
© Connie Swartz
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