The metal glints in the air as it is raised,
And it goes down. It has traveled through so many terrains Sank itself, under someone’s hand, into canvasses Of white, brown, the whole array They must stab multiple times Holes appear, which can never be healed Red issues forth, flies a little up Until it finds a place to land Small dots appear, a little raised, like flowers The face that belongs to the hand smiles Holds out their work, asks if we can see The message of love they made There are swooping lines, dots like flowers Can you see? There are leaves falling to the ground There is warmth in the creation There is a pumpkin, the one you carved for Halloween They laugh, a twinkle in their eye “Do you like the quilt, dear?” A Little Something from the Embroiderer
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Writers
All
Archives
February 2022
|