The Seamstress: Decompress and Unravel Time

I really need to sleep...

She goes by many names, the woman before my eye.

She meets many demands, but I know not why,

She fears over the simple things I do not crave,

Reading the cards, but does not take to being brave.

She tells me my present, past, and future,

While dolling out a tale, paper weights of pewter,

Holding all my cards in place, no fear over their danger.

I’ve known such pain, I question now the game of this stranger.

I accept her work, an apprentice is I, learning her craft.

I know not her real name, face, or act, but she has daft-

Tendencies. But even here my being is assumed, a student,

A woman, a lover, a fighter, a skilled artisan, worthy, prudent.  

No one believes, when I tell them me, lost to their inner babblings.

And so I do not correct their surface level labelings. 

Why can’t I be me? Dangerous to assume the need, 

to fit into a box. No, not I. I’ll just be.

So I’ll allow many narratives to plot. 

I do not stall when I stop.

I simply rest until I feel a creative swoop,

As though someone’s tweaked the time loop,

I feel it from moment to moment, 

I sit behind the motive of bestowment. 

The seamstress has many names-

I’m not even sure I know it.

Author's Note

Woot, boot, scoot, toot

Reviews

[DIVYA]

I really love this very creative poem. Its wonderful that you can't be labelled or put in a box. That's the true essence of creativity. The seamstress is amazing! Well done Grumpie!

[Grumpie]

Huzzah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!