Mother's Masterpiece

Her fingers worked with precision
Each turn and loop leading to
A knot, the needle weaving in
and out, lacing the mass of wool.
Intricate patterns merge together
Leaving behind a delicate trail
Of sweat, love and devotion.
 
Her jewel would need only the best
Not brought not got but made.
Knitted with the tenderness only
she was capable of, her ceaseless love
 filtering deep though the strands of
wool. Pure and white, soft and fine,
 to adorn her jewel.
 
Her gem now veiled by the
 protective darkness of her womb
would soon know  she
took immense care of him.
He would know, know when he
would become the owner
of his mother’s master piece.