The knitting lady

A village nestled deep within the mountains
Where the homes are made of stone walls and red roofs
and lizards dwell in abundance…
A village only accessible via a flight of stairs
A climb down off the road which is steep and long enough
To test your legs and lungs.
In such a hamlet stays a woman who is not known to many
Beyond her sleepy neighborhood.
Her hands remain busy all the time
As she knits a shawl or a sweater from the wool of her pet bunnies.
Her eyes sparkling like the droplets in bright sunshine,
Face gleaming with the peacefulness of a spring moon
And her skillful hands maneuvering in an enchanting rhythm.

Knitting lady



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