A Hand Made Dress: One Stitch at a Time

Time for a new dress, grandmother's delight
For her granddaughter growing in height.

In her mind's eye, she creates the dress.
How she can see it, there's no one can guess.

Yards of new fabric align the long wall
And pretty too, with their flowers so small.

A hand made dress, her new project this day;
Cutting out pieces in careful array.

Not very likely two will be the same;
Precision, always the name of the game.

Focused completely with no one around.
Pressing each piece, not a wrinkle is found.

A seamstress with whom no one can compare;
A button, a bead, a loop, here and there.

A dress so pretty, each fitting to check;
There is nary a mark, not even one speck.

One stitch at a time, my grandmother sews.
While she is working, her face always glows.

Her wrinkled hands do not mind the ordeal;
Each stitch so perfect, no flaw to conceal.

Hours and hours, she works at her art,
Needlework perfect, sometimes a new dart.

Working well into the wee hours of night,
Her final touches make everything right.

Brushing her hair right back from her face,
Looks at her work and gives thanks for God's grace.

She is determined, knows just what to do.
"This is your dress, yes, I made it for you."

The dress is perfect and top of the line
And best of all, this handmade dress is mine!

Is sewing by hand becoming a lost art?