The young lass sat on a stool,
Weaving away colourful ropes,
Into a carpet of beauty,
As she put her heart and dreams,
Into the patterns of art,
She conveyed her message,
For longed eternity,
A life of freedom unfamiliar,
Similar to other artists,
Who want to be remembered,
As she sent a silent scream,
To the world outside her village.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
