The Seamstress Poem by James Walter Orr

The Seamstress



Her gray head bows, and in the lamps dim glow,
with steady hand she sticks the end of thread
toward needles eye, but bushy, raveled end
declines to go. She makes another try
after she has moistened with her mouth,
And twisted down the raveling gossamers
that tend to wander from the mother-strand.
So now again, she takes with steady hand
the thread toward needles eye: the thread goes through.
She stops a yawn, but can’t suppress a sigh,
and now, again, the treadle makes its sound.
Night thickens, and the shadows crowd around.
She blinks her eyes against the yellow light
that shines through film of soot, as fuel low,
the lamp begins to flicker, and its glow
takes on a glint of red, and starts to die.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM

James Walter Orr

Amarillo, Texas, U.S.A.
BEST POEMS
BEST POETS
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success