Trapped in sleep
Unable to move
Eyes refusing to close...
Poring over my work
Threading deep bone needles
You ask why I do not move
Fear holds me still
I am often tucked in, mouth open
But I sometimes can hear you
Trapped in sleep
Unable to move
Eyes refusing to close
Seeing your shadows dance
And writhe among the sewing implements
In the morning I see patterns cut
From deep leather
Shoes assembled and sold to the waiting customers
Who slip their toes into tanned soles
And step out into a harsh world
That believes in heavy footsteps
I thank you for your help
And yet I quiver, not knowing
What you intend with your work
And what purpose my materials serve
I lay a fabric of fine satin
Fashioned into a slippery shirt
Hoping it conveys my thanks
And hides my shaking hands
Under the shimmering white
Perhaps tonight I will move
To hand you gleaming fabric
And bid that you leave
So I can cobble leather
With my flaws, and my fears
But more likely I will stay still
Head turned towards your form
Watching, and quivering.
Follow her on Twitter: @PriyaJSridhar
POEM Art by Amanda Bergloff
1 comment:
I enjoyed the fearful musings in this poem, wondering if the intentions of the elves are benevolent or malevolent, - and leaving that question unanswered. They SEEM to be good, making all those shoes overnight, but ... ? Nicely done!
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