Seamstress, kindest of bedlams.
You use beauty as your needle,
and youth as your thread.
Your dresses are dreams
and your jackets are dread.
Morning star buttons,
And lavender loops.
Swan feather corsets
and whale bone hoops.
Indigo velvets,
sewn up with stars,
Beetle bug buttons,
Kept in glass jars.
Your hands hold the love,
And you fingers the grace,
Pulling down sky with your needle,
And the earth up to face.
No comments:
Post a Comment