Out of the mouths of babes . . .

I was filing in my office tonight and came across a poem that my friend Rebecca sent me when The Stumpwork Robe was released.  It was written by her daughter Rachel a number of years ago, when Rachel was only ten.

I remembered thinking at the time, that deep inside that child at the age of ten, was a writer or poet waiting to get out.  rachel is now at university and I can’t wait to see which direction her life will take.  I love this poem and feel it is almost the plot outline of The Stumpwork Robe and it’s companion volume The Last Stitch in two tightly written verses.


Her silver needle is her magic wand,

her thread, a magic carpet

Weaving in and out of the fine cloth

Creating stitches so small and delicate they could be a fairy’s footsteps

on the edge of her creation.


She removes the pins from the bodice,

releasing the knights

that have guarded her domain

Freeing it to a destiny

she cannot follow.