Sunday, April 29, 2012

Treadle

Time is an up and down needle,
Hemming roads to towns and stream...
Following one continuous thread,
My heart and feet fuel the treadle machine.

I awake sometimes while driving,
The white lines stitching a garment seam...
Crashing when out of bobbin,
My passing life, a tailor's bad dream.

One day I will lose this onus,
I'll transfer my life to a loom...
Clinging to a flying shuttle;
I'll weave a tapestry to the moon.

1 comment:

  1. Very clever how you came up with that. I like it a lot.

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