Tuesday, March 14, 2017

The Seamstresses

Each star's a stitch mending night
for the sky to wear to meet morning.

Morning's a stitch pulled tight,
ending night and making day.

My star  stitch, stitch, stitch
I wonder which stitch will scar

what I dream tonight.
I wonder who the seamstresses are.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

11 comments:

Sanaa Rizvi said...

This is so wonderfully dreamy!!

Kim Russell said...

I love the idea of secret seamstresses, Mama Zen, and paricularly enjoyed the lines:
'Morning's a stitch pulled tight,
ending night and making day.'

Kerry O'Connor said...

Your poetry always leaves me feeling deeply satisfied.
Thank you for that.

Steve King said...

A stitch--such a tiny thing, yet you make them hold our different worlds together!

Bekkie Sanchez said...

Clever! I adored it.

Jim said...

I like it, MomZ. It reminded me of the surgeon sewed the remaining skin on my nose together after the other surgeon finished with the Moh Surgery. He sure did mess my nose up.

Marian said...

Dreamy, beautiful

paulscribbles said...

Minds me of Grandmother spider stories.

Fireblossom said...

I like the onomatopoeia of the stitch stitch stitch, and the final line is fantastic. I wonder, too.

razzamadazzle said...

I love this! What a wonderful imagery filled poem.

grapeling said...

I wonder - or maybe I know - what I've done and not done, so that the seamstresses don't weave me dreams to remember each night. ~