Fabricating Fun

My mother darned socks,
Her forehead furrowed  

As she tried to thread  

The needle’s cycloptic eye 

On the upstairs landing 

Standing at the ready 

Was the Singer machine  

But it was hardly noticed 

Except for dusting day, 

Its voice dormant  

In the oak cabinet  

But when the radio played  

Buttons and Bows, 

Chantilly Lace,  

Blue Velvet,  

Forever in Blue Jeans 

Its foot pedal  

Began to bob and weave 

At least that’s the yarn I heard 

From my older brother  

Whose pattern it was  

To leave me in stitches  

With the stories he told