It started out a small distraction,
My sweater plans were stalled in action,
"I'll make a cowl, or something easy,"
But something made me feel uneasy.
I took some time to be precise
To match the yarn with something nice,
I read through books, I searched the 'net,
But nothing proper surfaced yet.
I came upon a knitting stitch,
That pleased my eye, without a glitch,
I started knitting right away,
I knit four inches in a day.
But then, the work became quite dull,
The days went on, my progress null,
I worked with grim determination
To move on through this situation.
It travelled down to San Francisco,
I could have brought it to a disco!
It weathered being dragged with me
Through airports and security.
But when the third ball joined along,
I knew the colours were all wrong,
A grey it was, but not exact,
My dye lot differed, that's a fact.
I groaned, I wept, I sighed, I whimpered,
I can't believe that dye lot differed.
I paced and huffed, and yes, I pouted,
My progress stalled, the cowl was stouted.
I shrugged my shoulders, wiped my brow,
"I dare not rip this thing out now,
This yarn will break when it is stressed,
I'll carry on, and hope for best."
Despite my efforts and my will,
I check the ball, it still exists,
And so, I sigh, and stretch my wrists.
It's beautiful, a lovely thing,
I'll finish it before the spring,
Until that time, I do intend
To follow through until the end...
Whenever the heck that is.