THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
'Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through my stash,
Every needle was threaded, with plenty to spare;
The charts all in order with a great deal of care,
In hopes that a good stitch on soon would be there;
The fabrics were nestled all snug with their threads,
While visions of cross stitch danced in their heads;
And me in my 'womb, and pop with remote
To read the rest go HERE.
