The lacemaker

Dexterous hands tie the needles to the pillow

nimbly feeding the bobbins

with rows of cloud like cotton

The lacemaker jabs the pattern

with orange needles

Carefully ties the first node

singing, repeating verses

with the same subjected

node codes

She forgets her empty belly

the sadness of her poor bare feet

singing the beauty of the blue pillow

while draws in white

the figure of dreams

made out of cotton clouds

Subservient she obeys the orders of needles

removing them, releasing the pillow

from acrid tips

Distracted the lacemaker

ignores the wrinkled lines of yesterday on her face

or her owns calloused hands,

absorbed in transform the continuous line

in the story she tells in lace