We wove the wool
tight around the loom,
moving our raw fingers
back and forth, back and forth.
Laughing as we worked,
we wove our joy
and our delicate hope,
into the fabric of "us".
It wasn't until
your fingers got tired,
and your will became weary,
that I began to fear.
You used excuses
to avoid continuing,
as I toiled and fought,
to perserve our handiwork.
It wasn't until
you stopped weaving,
that I realized
our project was finished.
I took the fabric
off the old loom,
and cried,
as I unravelled it.
We wove the wool,
tight around the loom,
but not tight enough,
to hold "us" together.
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This work by Lena Rigby is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Fantastic Lena! One of your best.
ReplyDeleteLove it! Exactly how I feel right now...if only people realized how much I notice the fabric being made by our memories together, how delicate and how beautiful...if only..then maybe it wouldn't have to be unraveled :(
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