Creation

Looking at the stretched yarn
I wondered what it might look like.
When adorning a beautiful lady
will it make her eyes light.

I started with an idea
a pattern which would appeal to all.
Working with great gusto
I weaved through that exquisite shawl.

I burnt the midnight oil
not knowing where to stop.
Cutting myself off from the world
to the point, they called me a snob.

Perhaps I must have fallen asleep
for I saw the fresco in a new light.
"Grotesque" maybe a wrong word
but somehow it did not feel quite right.

You came into my domain
as I looked at the threads in despair
Opening the windows of my cloistered room
you brought in a breath of fresh air.

You pulled a few threads here and there
with a touch as silken as those tresses.
Compared to my methodical tinkering
yours were like sweet caresses.

Your enthusiasm rubbed on on me
and I joined in with a new hope.
Weaving through the fateful night
we worked like body and soul.

It indeed is a masterpiece
a creation of our collective efforts.
And who better than you my lady
would be the one to adorn it first.