Echos

Where is your head lass,

 when you are stitchin?

It is in a time long ago...

in my mind today,

 Tis Downton Abbey that captures me.

Not upstairs...

nay, 

but down.

Not just Downton~

but 

actually more

Hildene...

Robert Todd Lincoln's

estate.

My Great Grandparent's served him

in his fields and house.

The maids and kitchen staff a flutter

 and at the table,

a young maid quickly makes

 tiny repair stitches. 

Her pins on a pinkeep 

made of scrap. 

Perhaps pieces of a uniform, 

long retired from it's obvious task?

I wouldn't be able to create 

in that time.

Life would have been spent with many more needful duties,

and 

creating would have been made in small, 

stolen moments.

I wonder sometimes if my heart held memories, 

over years greater than I.

Could the stars and heavens

 have kept glimpses 

of another era

reflecting

that heart?