Days weave themselves
into garments
we may not want.

Those three old girls still
snip our threads
whether we weave or knot.

Oblivious we live
head down, texting
absent friends.

Is it worth the coming
style faux-pas
in the coffin?

Lift your eyes;
study the cut of your fabric:
those scissor blades
still snip.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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