Sally’s gone,
the old dog’s dead
and from the woven fabric of my life
another thread

Warp patterned by ancient genes,
stretched on framework of a mother’s womb.
Weft woven in picks of life’s experience
discontinuities on the weaver’s loom.

Sometimes the weave is thin
drawn out, frayed
where days were hard
and thinly thread was laid.

Other times it grows,
Where shuttle stick wove fast
complex patterns of a hopeful past.
but love wears holes
where valued threads
are drawn.

Now the shuttle slows
but still moves on,
a supplementary warp
placed in
where one has gone.

© Maureen Sudlow

just woven