 |
| Photograph by J. Trent |
The Weaver
by John Trent
He weaves
Weathered, wrinkled
His recessed eyes
Dark and heavy
With misfortune’s haze
Pausing with hope
As a man walks past
Then returns his gaze
Continuing to weave
Old fingers calloused
Hands etched deep
Crevices of time
From a distant life
Frail and proud
His work incomplete
With eyes cast sunward
He pauses,
Then smiles
No comments:
Post a Comment