Author's Note: This poem was the winner of a poetry challenge at Parma Eruseen and was nominated for "Best Poem" in the Parma Awards. Thanks to everyone who took the time to review and encourage me; you can't imagine how much I appreciate it.
Weaver
Weaver, weaver, shall
you not weep?
Around your seat the
shadows creep.
Your heart is empty,
your love is gone,
But secretly, silently,
you weave on.
Weaver, weaver, what do
you trust?
Men go to war, as all
men must,
And women weep: so
should it be;
But your hands weave on
steadily.
Weaver, weaver, what
does this mean?
If he is King, you
shall be Queen.
But if he falls, you
cannot stay
To weave your broken
heart away.
Weaver, weaver, what
shall you do?
Your love is gone, but
you are true:
You weave and weave
until at last
The shadows fly or
doom has passed.
Weaver, weaver, what
have you there?
"A banner for my love
to bear."
You cry at last, and I
too weep
For the daughter I
cannot keep.