The weavers

Spools of threads

hanging low,

scattered away

like anxious crows.

Vivid and different

away from all ties,

seemingly unique

but a garden variety for eyes.

But there are eyes that see

what no others can view,

and they are with everyone

but found by such few.

The eyes that saw

these threads away,

just gaped at them

and thought all day.

The thought of threads

then ran through minds,

wove all the threads

of different kinds.

From the green of the grass

and blood red from knives,

they changed the world

by weaving lives!

One Comment Add yours

  1. Jyoti Suresh says:

    Very nice

    Liked by 1 person

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