The genre of my story is a place poem. It’s about my aunt’s sewing room, and how I make a quilt. This poem is my favorite; because it’s when I accomplished a task I never thought I would do! I knew I would make a quilt, but I never knew I could do it at a young age! My idea came from, when I was working looking at my quilt at home, wondering what to do for my poem, and decided to write about the day I sewn my quilt.
“My Aunt’s Sewing Room”
As beautiful bright fabric hang in their places,
I wonder what I will use next,
I stare at the bright colored buttons,
They look like bright shining stars on a jet black night.
The smell of lilacs from the mist I spray,
Is a crown of gold fit for a queen upon my head,
The warmth of the fabric saves me from the chill,
As if I was in a cold frozen forest.
The vibration of the sewing machine massages my hands,
It sounds as if a roaring lion was let out of a cage.
As thread and fabric meet and they become inseparable,
Like two little girls in kindergarten.
The sound of scissors snipping at threads,
I think what a beautiful quilt I have made.
The feeling of the patches closely stitched together,
Like a hopscotch board, close and perfect.
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