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This poem was written for my mother when she was a baby - Lyn Malin, one of her relatives was severely disabled (so certainly couldn't knit or stitch as the poem says) and my mother was not afraid of her like other children were. Lyn was very appreciative of this and wrote the poem as a result.

Lyn dictated short stories and poems which her mother would write down. She had at least two or three short collections published, but now the only place they are to be found is the state library... so far as I can tell.

This particular poem is, so far as I can tell, unpublished. There's another poem of hers written into a book I own that was once my grandmother's, I believe by another relative.