Spindles turning
Wheels alight
Spinning wool
Throughout the night
Sun arising
Night we leave
Wool to loom
About to weave
Natural colours
Shades of grey
Making jumpers
All this day
Clatter, clatter
Wool and weft
Shuttle empty
No wool left
Picked up stitches
Once were dropped
Off to bed now
Loom has stopped
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A touch of rustic England! Not a wasted word - Excellent!