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Cat's CradleI used to play ‘Cat’s Cradle’
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At the tender age of ten
But now I think I’ve lost the knack,
Because I’ve not played it since then.
Knobbly fingers are not nimble,
But they do remember touch,
The feel of children’s and lovers’ skin
Perhaps I think too much?
From this bright window,
Where I sit, I look outside,
Reminiscing on my life
From toddler to a bride.
Many years ago I was a nurse,
My hands tended to the sick,
My hands were white and smooth then
And now they're red and thick.
My daughter came to see me,
Can’t remember when at all?
But last time in her pocket,
She took out this small ball.
It was actually a ball of wool,
Round my fingers, wool was tied,
I played Cat’s Cradle with my daughter...
And afterwards I cried.