Unsuitable

[tomoffing]

I knit in stitches of sixes and fives
With threads unspooled from eager eyes.
By hand each strand is loosed then tethered.
I wrap, they wind, become tangled, alive
In patterns fashioned and woven together.

Perchance I arrive at a sock or a hat,
A slightly useful reward for my tat;
I, emboldened, will make an attempt
At a garment more detailed, an outfit that
Complete would meet both need and intent.

But once my needles begin to click
Zig zags extend into hems too thick
And all I have sewn is a fraying knot,
For socks I can darn or buttons affix
But seamstress or tailor I surely am not.


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Any and all feedback greatly appreciated,
Thanks