With the fading colours of a spent flowers
bloom
The weaver wove new patterns through the
loom
Each thread transformed the design of one’s
life
The darkening colours depicting battles of
strife
Time was of no matter as the weaver worked
on
Each thread as woven captured a melody of
song
The sound of the loom being pushed back and
forth
Attention to detail as every thread must be
caught
Each thread of thought twisting a design of
choice
The weaver sat in silence with no need for
a voice
~ Tryphena ~
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