The lamp on the sewing machine keeps my face warm.

The gift of giving

The whirr of an intrepid sewing machine
is stitched into my heart tonight,
and I have given my all to you all.

You will not know it yet, but wonky lines
are endearing and the odd dropped pin

is just transient, just one little pain in the toe.
This is nothing compared to the holes I've pricked
in my own thumbs, though there's been no blood