Weaver Woman, weave me a dream,
For I no longer know how to.
The Fae said you charge by the seam,
So I suppose it will be short.
I sold my last dream too rashly
To a goblin for too little.
He grinned at me all too brashly,
Sliding some brass coins toward me.
I have not much means to pay you,
But, Weaver, I have dire need.
Whatever you wish me to do,
Simply name it; I will comply.
Perhaps this is just some cheap scheme;
But I am too desperate to care.
Please, just weave me a simple dream
So that I will not feel empty.
Child, you seem to be misled.
A Weaver of Dreams, so I am,
But how can I weave without thread?
You leave nothing for me to weave.
I must have something to start with;
The tiniest daydream will do.
Weaving from nothing is a myth,
And you simply have nothing left.
You have eroded your spirit
Down to nothing but a longing.
I suppose that bears some merit.
You've left almost nothing else.
Before I start to weave for you,
You must try to restore your soul.
Then, I think, a dream will be due;
You've waited far too long for one.
YOU ARE READING
Faeries Born
PoesíaA few poems about Faeries, and their lore. When are Faeries born? What do they do when we don't see them? What happens in the dunes? What is their darker side like? Please understand that while I have the "completed" box checked off, I will still p...
