The treadle has fallen silent,
the weaving done too soon.
But what of the remaining thread
Surely left upon the loom?
A basket full of memories
just waiting to be spun.
But step back now and turn your eyes
to the work that you have done.
See your love and warmth and beauty
you shared with one and all.
It adorns a thousand tapestries
upon a thousand walls.
the weaving done too soon.
But what of the remaining thread
Surely left upon the loom?
A basket full of memories
just waiting to be spun.
But step back now and turn your eyes
to the work that you have done.
See your love and warmth and beauty
you shared with one and all.
It adorns a thousand tapestries
upon a thousand walls.
When I wrote this on October 21, the treadle was falling silent. As of last night, it has fallen. My dear friend has now left us. We mourn, but we also celebrate everything she brought to our lives.
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