Poem: Twas the week before Christmas

'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the land,
the crafters were furious with hooks in their hand.
The projects were made with tender love and care,
with the hope that they weren't intertwined with too much hair.

The skeins were aligned in colours lovely and deep,
in a number that nearly amounted to a whole sheep.
And I in a hoodie making a last minute cap,
hoping real hard it didn't come out looking like crap.

Watching my furious hook was quite the sight,
another Netflix binge while working well into night.
Making hats, and scarves, and a scrubby bath mitt,
tangled yarn causing more than one fit.

On SC, on DC, on front post and star stitch,
on patterns so complicated they read like the spell of a witch.
Full of hope these gifts are a huge hit,
even if I have to explain they're crochet not knit.

Almost done when what to my tired eye did appear,
a mistake well 3 rows to the rear.
Enough profanity to land me on the naughty list I did call,
 now frog away, frog away, frog away all.

I'll work it again keeping my stitches aren't too tight,
even if I'm the only one who'll know that wasn't just right.
Handmade items from sweater to glove,
are the purest way I know to display my love.

To all my hookers rushing to finish a last minute gift,
I hope Santa delivers a new yarn bowl or swift.
May your yarn be knot free and your hooks shine bright,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night

 **This was written by a fellow crocheter named Brittany Clark.