Rarishy Poems

It was plain to see,
her dress was in tatters.
The tailor
couldn't abide.
"A sight! A sight!
No, this won't do!"
with a
shake of head
and neat little sigh
examining stitches that failed.

so the tailor left the girl,
searching for her needles,
rummaging through drawers
for the string to feed
through the eye
to save the dress.

and the girl waited
thinking thoughts of leaving,
wanting not to disturb.

With a hoof
grasping folds of fabric
strung across the girl's frame,
she guided the needle
guided the string
to mend the holes
in the embroidery.
The dress fit tighter,
more comfortable
but no less tattered:
The buttons on the front were missing!

so the tailor left the girl,
digging through her bits and bobs
to find the perfect fit
to affix through string,
through needle eye
and mended fabric,
to save the dress.

and the girl waited
thinking thoughts of leaving,
wanting not to disturb.

The glow of horn
cast the shadow
of buttons held in place
sitting neatly in line
attached there to replace.
The dress was more glamorous,
neatly accessorized,
but still tattered as before.
The side was a disaster!
The fabric was gone
too much just to
resew...

so the tailor left the girl,
searching for the silk
that would finish the piece in turn
through rolls and drawers
and forgotten old covers
nothing left would fit
but the clothes on her back.
So she tore the skirt
that held the fabric
that fit the silk
that made the dress
that needed to be saved.

and the girl looked on,
mouthing only Stop!
but the sound never came out.

The silken shapes
drifted in place
to form invisible lines,
join pieces
old and new,
wounded since
beginning of time
more string, more sew
more sweat on the brow
and tears in her skirt
but the dress was finally done.

so the tailor stepped back
and admired her work,
the beauty that she had fostered.
As grand as it was,
the girl just looked on
at the tattered mess she caused.