The Fisherman’s Sweater
The scratchiness reminds me
of a sweater I once had
A cardigan of Arran wool
from my mother’s hands
She knitted it with love
every popcorn stitch
the fisherman’s ropes
filled every inch
It was another thing
that set me apart
not something a kid wants
right from the start
I wore it for warmth
it served its purpose
then on to my sister
then to service
Her daughters
so for twenty-five years
I’ve asked for new
fisherman’s gear
And Mom has said rightly
That the first one was itchy
I was a kid and
as such I richly
Deserved nothing
there’s a new cardigan
but no-one to hug, save
the knitter in Oban
DAC
May 4, 2007
We (I) had fantastic seafood in Scotland. Loch Etive mussels, unbelievable. Jim’s allergic so I got them all to myself!
I’ve been in touch with the ladies in Oban, and the shop has posted this poem which is more poignant now that Mom’s been gone a year. Dee