Scarves

56 8 5
                                    

A single cobbled street

a single woman and her wonder fleet

Women gathered from everywhere

no matter what their formal wear

Her hair flowing platinum in the wind

nothing but a single end

The wind flowing from the west

put their weary legs to rest

Fighting sleep throughout the night

noticing drear to be a blight

A single mission was their own way

to find their path to the day

A single man stood between them and this

they could overcome through kindness

He stood down to let them leave

but two remained and tried to weave

A single scarf for the man

one wove by hand and the other by needle

To produce two forms of scarves to weedle

a way into the mans heart

Both had succeeded and he fell

straight from where he had promised not to

When they left the street fell into oppression

and the man fell deeper into depression

Words to match a RoseWhere stories live. Discover now