The blurring hues of yesterday,
Dripping serene through my picture,
Falling colours of a dream unseen –
You wanted to start the lie over,
But that tired world has ever been,
All the magic from the endless well,
Has dried her up like a dizzy spell,
These sands of time now must look,
Like torn and lost pages of a story –
Once a beloved and treasured book.
And now I wait for the brighter day,
Where there are ears for the singing,
To gladly take yesterday’s grief,
Through the night to tomorrow’s joy.
And in time these pieces might remember,
The love of knitting themselves together.