Skipping past loom and doom

Sometimes a weave brings us reprieve.

Skipping past loom and doom

Me melancholy? No, siree.

It’s simply not my cup of tea.

I’m fine, you know.

Or does it show?

Perhaps it’s merely repartee.

 

“Play nice,” they say. I must object.

The rules were wrong, last time I checked.

Just to travail

And bring the mail

May stop the shuttle in effect.

 

From warp to weft, a lot is left,

When weaving through one’s life.

The finest textiles fall to theft,

If subjected to strife.

 

I wanna fly with feathers high,

Escape to heal, re-fortify.

I’m living large

To stop, recharge,

And view a vantage by and by.

 

So labor’s lost at any cost,

As workers may be too far bossed.

Unraveled threads

Bring hotter heads,

Thus, fortune’s fools are double-crossed.

 

From warp to weft, a lot is left,

When weaving through one’s life.

The finest textiles fall to theft,

If subjected to strife.

c2016 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Thanks, Sepia Saturday, for the photo prompt.

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:

Daily Prompts: “recharge”

Five Minute Friday: “heal”

Meme Express: “play nice”

Sepia Saturday: vintage photo

Simply Snickers: “fine,” “fly,” and “feather”

Six Word Saturday: Describe your life in six words. (See subtitle.)

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: “view”

Image/s:

Vintage/public domain image.

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