Italian Hymn

(Written as in imitation poem for my poetry class, I got a A+ for some reason, she wanted me to share why my family but instead I will share with you all)

Sitting on a warn old sofa
Her soft arms gesture and sway
I heard a Neapolitan sing
Her mind becomes forgetful so easily hardly to remember names
The voice is as sweet as her young days in the fields of Italy
She crochet a blanket…
She crochet a blanket…
It was to the tune of church hymns
Dry hands against the cotton of the yarn
She could make her family stop and listen
Hymns
Coming from an Italian woman’s heart
Prayers
In her high pitch voice would shake along with her hands
Aged by life’s trials her mind and hands are not there best
“O sole mio
sta 'nfronte a te!
O sole, o sole mio
sta 'nfronte a te!”
Her hands fold yarn quickly but her heart has begun to slow
The night comes fast and her work is done
Her tired eyes read prayers before sleep
And her thoughts of her past lead her home once more