The magic needle and thread fell out of the sewing box one day. Before long, it had stitched together the curtains and the rug to the lounge carpet. There were stocking stitches on all the clothes and the socks were sewn together. It seemed (or should I say, seamed) that there was no stopping the magic needle and thread. It stitched my shirt to my trousers and my tie to my collar. By lunchtime, it had embroidered flowers on all the tea - towels in the kitchen and the serviettes on the table were stitched to the tablecloth. The fork, knife and spoon soon became one ... the plates were covered in balls of woollen spaghetti. The magic needle and thread tacked trousers to every jumper in the wardrobe, the pair of gloves soon had ten fingers and the magic needle knitted together all the scarves. A pile of handkerchiefs were soon hemmed and a dozen cardigans darned, as quick as a magic needle and thread. The needlework of the magic needle and thread was a sight to behold. But the magic needle and thread couldn't stop sewing ... it stitched together all the pages of the newspaper as I was sat reading on the sofa and attached up all the books on the bookshelf. Finally, the magic needle sewed the rug to the carpet and the bottom of my pants to the sofa so well that I couldn't get up for a week. Magic.
© Jacqueline Richards 2005
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