Poe et here

WEAVE

.

I examined it so very closely

Through fine thick ancient loupes

And followed each separate thread

The cottons, wools, and jupes

As they wound their way in concert

Each bound to pre-set paths

I watched them as they rose and fell—

Patterned corrugated laths.

They bore unique colour splendid

Here white, there red and a navy blue

The sunlight bounced right off them

Riders giv’n every beam a hue.

.

Then I fell back a step or two

That I might not be remiss,

Envisioned the total masterpiece

A smile, a tear, a kiss,..

The red was from a woman’s purse

Clutched tightly to her breast—

Loves gift to her on taking leave

As war’s unwelcome guest.

A spot of blue, so navy deep

From the corner of my eye

I saw was torn from old blue jeans,

Clad the saddened son sitting by.

The white that piqued my every sense

Dazzling my mind anew

I saw on every villager

Crowding round the bier to view.

He was a part of each of them,

Their future, present, past;

He had helped raise every one

Their priest gone home at last.

.

As he lay quiet in coffin closed

Beneath the quilted flag

That they had made from what they had

Be it purse, or jeans, or rag,

The colors brilliant in the sun

Glistened boldly, wet with tears

Which prismed like a million stars

Branding memories for lifelong years.