The Weaver
Lithe hands glide over the loom,
weaving history into cloth, lost
but for the tapestry, the fabric
of memory, soft in her hands.
Tactile and warm, the scene unfolds,
stories told of bonds woven through
years of time and toil,
of loss and denial.
The trials of life laced between
fingers and beam, weft and warp
to conjure a tale of little weight
before the moment is spent.
Faster now, the shuttle flies
before a single thread pulls loose,
threatening to unravel the yarn
she spins, fingers hook the source.
Snip.
Lithe hands glide over the loom,
weaving history into cloth, lost
but for the tapestry, the fabric
of memory, soft in her hands.
Tactile and warm, the scene unfolds,
stories told of bonds woven through
years of time and toil,
of loss and denial.
The trials of life laced between
fingers and beam, weft and warp
to conjure a tale of little weight
before the moment is spent.
Faster now, the shuttle flies
before a single thread pulls loose,
threatening to unravel the yarn
she spins, fingers hook the source.
Snip.
Last edited:
