The Room...a poem
By Tony DeLorger © 2012
Dust dare not settle,
light, no shadows cast,
satin cushions languish,
no embrace to hold them fast.
Lace and tassels, beads and glass,
bottles, painted pots,
crowded clumps of cluttered life,
Drapes and throws of clustered wool,
embroidered mats and quilts,
turned wooden frames and needle's poised,
upright threads and hilts.
Passions spurned in years before,
now with joy in flight,
absorbed in all that daylight,
to glow in dead of night.
Loving hands do guide a mind,
as open as a sky,
in beauty find expression,
in wonder God's reply.
Tiny miracles of gold and glass,
entwined in gifts so rare,
an artisan wades within the flow
of creativity, a master fair.
Exacting wordless speech in action,
with riches heaven blessed,
of woven life so enduring,
of angel wings caressed.
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