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.