Penelope Poem by Patrick Fealy

Are you the girl that made the gown and every night would take it down
To threads by morning in delay lest that your noble heart might stray
Most singularly was beauty bound to save her love for one who'd drowned
who went away to Trojan wars And then did not return no more
If only I could be that man to shoulder there with mighty hand
the bow that only he could bend and win your heart there once again
So stay your hand upon that seem unraveling your hopes and dreams
let beauty rest and sleep with ease while I await thee on my knees
so hand me then the untried bow to slay your sorrows here below
the hand that once had shaped it's wood had made it true, had made it good
let music here that did abound bring joy again where love is found