Where once I was strong in both web and in weft
Enduring things that saw others bereft
A selvedge to field all that life‘s muse could throw
My purpose evolved, I was ready to sew
Made up then, was I, into various things
With exploits that taught me what fortitude brings
Stretched to the limits and pulled into line
Casually thrown into shapes that were mine
Bought and then fraught by a starry-eyed punk
Torn and forlorn and discarded as junk
My once pristine knap became coarser with use
My character grew as my weave became loose
Until these days I’m faded, my purity past
Experience shows me that youth cannot last
My fibres are softer, my years are portrayed
My thread’s prone to damage, more easily frayed
I’m fragile and jaded, I’m shabby and chic
Perhaps I’ll emerge as a priceless antique.
Ruan, Love the metaphor and how you added the fiber being your life
Always,
Deborah
Ron
budd