Each star's a stitch mending night
for the sky to wear to meet morning.
Morning's a stitch pulled tight,
ending night and making day.
My star stitch, stitch, stitch
I wonder which stitch will scar
what I dream tonight.
I wonder who the seamstresses are.
For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
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About Me
- Maude Lynn
- Anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information about life to last him the rest of his days. ---Flannery O'Connor
11 comments:
This is so wonderfully dreamy!!
I love the idea of secret seamstresses, Mama Zen, and paricularly enjoyed the lines:
'Morning's a stitch pulled tight,
ending night and making day.'
Your poetry always leaves me feeling deeply satisfied.
Thank you for that.
A stitch--such a tiny thing, yet you make them hold our different worlds together!
Clever! I adored it.
I like it, MomZ. It reminded me of the surgeon sewed the remaining skin on my nose together after the other surgeon finished with the Moh Surgery. He sure did mess my nose up.
Dreamy, beautiful
Minds me of Grandmother spider stories.
I like the onomatopoeia of the stitch stitch stitch, and the final line is fantastic. I wonder, too.
I love this! What a wonderful imagery filled poem.
I wonder - or maybe I know - what I've done and not done, so that the seamstresses don't weave me dreams to remember each night. ~
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