Friedl Embroiders in the Sunroom

Berlin 1917

What does she think about 

while she stitches

pictures

of bees and flowers?

She’s dreaming of the days ahead,

so different than the ones that came.

Before her brother died in the Great War.

Before her husband disappeared in France.

Before her children brought home stolen food,

to fill the empty pots and pans.

Quietly she stitches

listens to each prick and the silky sound

of drawn red thread.

There are birds outside in the linden trees

No bombs or tanks or runaway steeds.

She looks up.

It’s almost time for coffee and the 

little cakes baked just for 

Sunday afternoon.

April 2008, 060809