Return to front page
More poems about Talents.
WATCHING THE WEAVER
I watched a crafted weaver doing a fine intricate
design
With many different shades of silk thread so
very fine,
The fast movement of her fingers and the slide of
the loom
Seemed to take away all my upset and remove
my gloom.
The garment she was making would be a shawl
like cape
And an iridescent effect was already beginning
to shape.
I knew they would be expensive for they took a lot
of work,
And for not one moment from her task did she
ever shirk.
She talked as her fingers danced with the loon
that day,
Even working fast it will take many hours she
did say.
Some garments were complete, the softness beyond
compare
With anything I had felt and the colours were so
very fair,
I tried one on and I could feel the love of the
weaver,
She smile and I felt her caring, at that moment I was
the receiver
Of a total bonding with a stranger who is now my
dear friend,
Every time I wear the cape her closeness I can
truly depend.
Now many relatives wear some garment made with that
silk so fine
And they too feel the warmth and love that was once
only mine.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 26 October 2005