THE FABRIC STASH
I have a little problem, It's called my fabric stash,
My husband doesn't know it, But it cost a lot of cash.
It started out as remnant pieces, I bought from a shop
But it then became addictive And I really couldn't stop.
Fat eights became fat quarters, Two metres became three
But when I purchased a whole bolt, I sought psychiatry.
I couldn't pass your patchwork shop, I had to come and see
If there was any missing piece, Inside the shop for me.
So hubby starts to realise, One fabric cupboard becomes two
He keeps me from your patchwork shop, To keep our marriage true.
So I sit at my computer, While I'm banished to the house
But he'll have to hide the Visa card, 'cause I can click a mouse!
Well, there isn't any answer, To this tale of fabric woe
For this hobby is delightful, and your fabric stash will grow.
Just remember the old saying, As you purchase with a grin
"she who dies with the most fabric, ...............................will win!"
LOVE IT LISA, thank you so much for sharing your poem with us.
Ladies, if you are going to share this poem please give Lisa the recognitionshe deserves.