A Knitted Intermission

I scaled the carved leg of the entryway table, weary from my grand exploits across the bustling avenues. Resting beside a brass key dish lay a thick winter glove, its ribbed cuff propped open like a welcoming fabric cavern. What an exquisite sleeping pavilion! With measured dignity, I shimmied feet-first into the dark woolen palm, burrowing deep until the warm knit enveloped me up to my chest. I propped my heavy skull upon the soft bolster of the knitted thumb and pulled the folded hem snug beneath my bat bow tie. The house drifted into midnight silence around my cozy vault, granting this exhausted maestro his well-earned rest.